


Recursion

by spangelbanger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesiac Dean, Canon Divergent, Dean/Lisa past relationship, Destiel - Freeform, Enochian, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, but no more than is in canon, deaging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 56,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spangelbanger/pseuds/spangelbanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets to be 26 again. What could go wrong?</p><p>This story is not at all going the way that I intended it to. I intended on it being some short and cute, with the cocky 26 year old Dean was thrown in the middle of this mess that is current canon. What I have apparently ended up with is a novella length fic, running parallel to canon, taking cheap shots at the things I don't like in canon. and Dean happens to be in the middle of it without the benefit of any memory of the past 10 years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean had fallen asleep whiskey warm. Feeling better than he had in years. Sam was with him a little weirder than he remembered, but safe in the passenger seat of the impala, and Dean's life was finally making sense again. It was because things were just finally starting to make sense again he knew something was wrong the second he started waking up.

For one, he wasn't hung over. He should have been. He should have been waking up to a pounding head, and Sam throwing open the curtains to blind him awake, and cotton mouth and any number of alcohol related problems that came from drinking too much the night before. He didn't feel like he'd should have. But maybe he got lucky. It had been known to happen.

The silence told him something was wrong. Sam wasn't with him. Sam was never exactly quiet unless he was trying to be. There was always some noise going on with him, whether he was clearing his throat or turning pages loud enough to give a hung over Dean a full blown migraine. Dean knew all the sounds his brother made. Right down to the way he breathed too heavy when he _was_ trying to be quiet. He had no doubt that Sam wasn't with him, so where the hell was he? 

He rolled out of the bed and stared at the unfamiliar dresser across the room, he was pretty sure he'd crashed in a motel room the night before, but this was definitely not the way they'd leave a motel room. For one his mom's picture was the center of attention on the dresser, and the wall above it held a display of weapons. Some he recognized as from his family's arsenal. some he didn't. There was a stone looking ax thing that looked like it had been thrown together in a post apocalyptic horror movie. He thought was probably completely impractical no matter how awesome it looked. Curiosity had him moving, he lifted it from the wall and felt the weight of it in his hand. It fit like it was made for him. Lighter than it looked, and perfectly balanced. He grinned, definitely taking it with him when he left. 

He checked the door, expected to find himself locked in, but it opened easily on silent hinges. Beyond the door was a hallway that curved and he couldn't see where it went. 

He was still cataloging things that were wrong. Like the fact he was wearing pajamas. He wondered if it was a weird cult thing that he'd managed to get picked up by, that might explain why the room looked like it belonged to him, even though he couldn't remember how he got there. He closed the door hoping that no one had heard it open and started going through the drawers, the clothes were all his, or at least the ones he didn't recognize were in his size. The exception being a faded purple shirt he knew for a damn fact he wouldn't be caught dead in. It didn't look bad on Sam though. He frowned, wondering again where Sam was, and if he was out there somewhere now, waking up in a similarly disconcerting room, wondering what happened to Dean. _One thing at a time._ Dean reminded himself, he pulled out a shirt then pushed the drawer closed. He went through the other drawers until he found his jeans. His shoes were gone, but in their place was a pair of boots that looked equally scuffed like they'd already seen years of wear. The unfamiliar shoes were where he always put his own. It gave him the creeping sensation he had been the one to take them off. He knew he hadn't been the one to wear them down that much, so whose shoes was he wearing?The thought was slightly disturbing but they fit him. In his opinion it was better to wear someone else's boots than run into an unknown situation barefoot. 

His gun was easy to find, laying underneath his pillow, he checked it was still loaded then slipped it into his waist band. He gave the room one last glance, checked the door number and knew he'd have to come back to clear out the rest of his stuff once he figured out where the hell he was and more importantly where the hell Sam was. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean slipped down the hall as quietly as he could, ears open for any sign of trouble. The building was unlike any he'd seen before. The doors all had a symbol on it he hadn't seen before. The floors had square tiles every so often with sigals on it, some he recognized from the journal some he didn't. A sound drew his attention, he turned a corner and stopped staring at a room full of books and tables. 

“Someone has one hell of a Bat cave.” he whispered under his breath. There was movement and he stepped out of the doorway watching from around the door as someone moved through the room. There was a solid thunk of a bottle being sat down roughly on a wooden table. Dean peaked around the corner. For a fraction of a second he thought he'd managed to find his brother. He let out a slow breath, when he realized the person he was watching was too old to be his brother, there were differences, if possible the hair was too long, soft waves fell almost to his shoulders, Sam's was too long, but not that long. He watched for a second longer trying to figure out if there was another threat, but so far it seemed the two of them were the only ones there. 

He debated searching more, checking other rooms for Sam, making sure they were really alone, before he made his presence known. 

He could practically hear Sam's eye roll. Of course the guy knew Dean was there, he probably brought him here. But then again, if he realized he had a dangerous, bad ass hunter locked up in his library, maybe he wouldn't seem so relaxed. Unless this was a test. Something to see what Dean would do. 

He'd always been a guns blazing kind of guy. For a second he hesitated, if it was a test, then Sam was probably somewhere else, somewhere Dean couldn't find him. The idea terrified him, he had lost everything else, he couldn't lose Sam to. Not now, not after having already given up on ever seeing him again when Sam left them. 

He moved through the room as quiet as he could pulling out his gun as he moved. He saw the flicker of tension in the mans shoulder's and knew it was over, he was caught. But he didn't turn around, Dean at least was pretty sure the guy was human, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He struck quickly, wrapped one hand around the guy's neck to force him still, to let him know who was calling the shots. Dean pressed the barrel of the gun against the soft spot just beneath his jaw to make the point. 

“Don't move a damn muscle.” He growled low, a little disappointed he couldn't see his fear. Whatever he'd done to Sam he was going to pay for, but first, Dean needed answers, and he didn't want to hurt the guy, not if he was human. But if that was what it took for him to find Sam, that was what he was going to do. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Now we're going to take this nice and slow, I'm going to ease up a little, ask you a question and I want answers, and so help me god if I don't like what I hear,” he cocked the gun. Pressed a little harder then pulled back, then said, “where's my brother.”

One word came out in a soft whisper, laced in fear and at the same time he sounded exhausted, “Dean?” The voice was different but the same. A little deeper maybe.

The gun held forgotten when he turned to face him. The wide eyed shock on the face, looking back at him, must have mirrored his own. “What happened?” Sam asked, and he knew now beyond the shadow of a doubt it was Sam. The face was older, almost unrecognizable in the differences, but the kaleidoscope of Sam's eyes was unmistakable.

“Sammy?” The word came out in a shocked whisper.

“Yeah,” Sam said looking at him with an equal mix of horror and interest, “how? What did you do?”

“You tell me,” Dean muttered, “I just woke up here, where are we anyways?”

Sam shrugged, “we work here.” the answer was a little flat, then he gave Dean a searching look, “what's the last thing you remember?'

Dean shrugged, “bartender with a killer rack, stumbling into a motel room, trying not to wake you up, but you know, you were a lot less old then.” The smirk came out, because Sam got old. Dean knew it would happen, okay not like _old_ old, but older, old enough he wasn't Dean's little brother anymore and it hurt, but it meant he'd done good. He'd done his job. And Sam was smiling back, but it was the sad smile of someone who had heard a joke too many times to keep laughing at it.

“What year dean?” Sam asked finally and some things never changed, dean took comfort in the fact, the face was different but the expression was still the same.

“2005” dean said at last, then looked around the room, “so,” he cleared his throat ready to hear an answer he didn't want, “what year is this?”

“2016” Sam answered hesitantly, like he was expecting dean to freak out over it. Which admittedly he was considering it but he was still staring at his brother, still seeing all the ways time had changed him. Looking for ways it hadn't. “We'll figure it out,” Sam said, and Dean got the feeling he was talking mostly to himself, 'but do you mind not pointing that thing at me.” He didn't make Dean lower the gun which still rested forgotten against his brother's throat. Dean pulled it away on his own, feeling slightly guilty he'd even forgotten it was between them.

Dean held up the gun, so Sam could see it, and laid it on the table, before stepping back.

“Where's dad?” Dean asked, “did we ever find him?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered quietly, “we found him, he didn't want to be found for a while.” He got quiet, the silence telling in a way Sam's words wouldn't.

“Is it over?” he asked, trying to keep out hope even while he felt like the world was about to crumble around him, “Did we get the son of a bitch that killed mom?”

Sam smiled at him, a sad half smile, “you put a bullet between his eyes, it was a demon and it's long dead. You killed it.”

Dean nodded, smiling the best he could though his eyes were misting.

“So, Dad, um...” he swallowed trying to force the words out and not start crying, “how did he go? Too many bacon cheeseburgers?”

“Exactly, I keep telling you those things are going to kill you, but you don't listen either.”

“Well, what's the point of life without bacon?”

Sam laughed at him, and Dean found himself smiling in spite of everything. “It's really over?” he asked again, his voice coming out small and childish to his own ears.

“Has been for a long time,” Sam said softly, and Dean felt himself pulled into a hug. Sam didn't quiet fit the way he remembered, but when he rested his head against Dean's shoulder, dean wrapped his arms around him, thanking god Sam had survived, if he hadn't, Dean didn't know what he would have done. To wake up eleven years in the future and find Sam gone would have killed him. Dean let himself have the moment, for just a second longer until he felt ready to deal with it, “Where's my car?” He asked at last. The questions of Sam and his Dad answered left one more that was almost as pressing.

“Come on,” Sam said smiling, almost little brother bright, but not quite reaching it. “You're going to love this.” Dean watched when Sam moved away from him, noticing his hand coming up to press against his own stomach with a grimace. Something had taken a chunk out of his brother, and recently if the slightly drawn look to his brother was any indication.

“Sam?” Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm, looking first up at his face for some sign he wasn't comfortable with the touch, it wouldn't stop Dean, but he needed to know. The shirt lifted and he saw the white bandage, covering the middle of his stomach blood was seeping through the white cloth, not much, but just enough to know Sam had probably torn open the wound beneath the bandage. .

“What happened?” Dean demanded.

“Werewolf.” Sam supplied off handed, then smiled, “it's fine. I barely even feel it. You don't need to worry about me”

“Right.” Dean said disbelief coloring the words, “first I need to see the car, to make sure she's still in one piece, then I want to get a look at that bandage.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean listened to the story of how they got their bunker. Sam's voice broke a little toward the end of it, when they found out they'd had to bury more of their family. Dean reached out a hand intending to comfort, but stopped before he touched him. Sam was quieter than he remembered, his words came out without heat or passion.

Sam stripped off his shirts, and sat on the table. Dean pushed him so he'd lean back on his arms and then carefully pried away the stained bandage.

He didn't know what he' been expecting but he knew it wasn't a scratch from a werewolf. “Jesus Sammy,” he muttered, “you think you cut that close enough.”

“Yeah.” Sam said laughing, “dude, don't worry about it, you already took care of it.”

Dean was proud of himself for remembering to grab the first aid kit out of the car. He tore off a clean strip of light weight white gauze and recovered the broken flesh.

“I think you'll be okay,” he said smiling at his brother.

“Man, I don't know what I would have done without you to tell me what I already know,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “are you satisfied?”

“Not even close,” Dean said, “I'm starving, I'm not sure what the hell you're not telling me, but I think it's probably pretty damn important, and I can't find my damn necklace.”

“Your necklace?” Sam asked looking up at him his eyes widened comically again, like he hadn't even expected dean to wear a necklace.”

“You know? Bronze, little weird face charm thing I've been wearing for the past decade? You should know it you gave it to me.” Dean reached up to touch the bare spot over his heart where the necklace should have been. It's absence felt like a part of himself was missing. At the time it hadn't seemed as pressing as finding Sam, but now that he knew Sam was safe he needed it back.

“It's gone.” Sam said with a shrug, “you left it in a motel room a few years back.”

“Bullshit.” Dean said sharply. “I wouldn't leave it anywhere, not without going back for it.”

“I'm sorry,” Sam said, “but it's true.” He wasn't looking at dean, his eyes were on some middle space. Dean tried to imagine the situation where he'd be okay with just leaving it behind. The only way that he could think of would be if Sam were in danger. If he had to choose between the charm and his brother it wouldn't have been a contest.

His heart ached a little with the knowledge of it's loss, but he could handle that if it meant keeping Sam safe. There wasn't much he wouldn't give up.

He smiled at Sam, “you know it's weird.”

“Which part?” Sam asked.

“You're weird,” Dean teased, “for the first time in your life you're the older one and you're still letting me take care of you.”

Sam shrugged, “you wouldn't stop even if I told you to. It's easier just to let you do what you feel you need to.”

It was true of course, Dean's job would always be to watch out for Sam that wouldn't change no matter what.

Sam smiled at him, “besides, it's not the first time I've been older than you. Last time you were fourteen and a witch wanted to eat you.”

“Well, I am delicious.” Dean said smirking while he put the tape in place. He handed Sam back his shirt and started repacking the first aid kit. The thing that got him was the comment about the witch.

“So we're still hunting?” He asked at last, "You didn't go back to school after the demon?”

“No,” Sam said softly, “I didn't belong there anymore. Besides, someone had to keep you out of trouble.”

“Great job there,” Dean said. Of course they were alive so maybe it was all they could ask for, but Sam had been shot hunting a werewolf and Dean had been turned into a kid, and now, he didn't know for sure but he thought time travel seemed unlikely.

“We'll get you home Dean.” Sam said looking a little pained.

“I am home,” Dean argued. It felt true enough. He wasn't particularly in any hurry to get back, It wasn't that he didn't desperately need to make sure Sam was okay, it was that he already knew the answer. Sam was with him. Unsettlingly older, but he looked good, filled out in all the right places. If Dean was the kind to notice it he might even call him hot. So whatever happened, Sam must have been okay.

He tried to smile, what if he wasn't though? What if Dean's absence was the thing that had Sam so quiet. That he knew what had happened while Dean was here. It would explain why he didn't seem too surprised that Dean had pulled a gun on him. He felt the prickle on unease run through him.

“So, you never got married, or settled down or anything?”

Sam didn't answer for a while, considering what would be alright to tell him. It was pretty clear there was more to the story by the time he whispered, "there was a girl for a little while. We had a place, and a dog, she was a vet. But it didn't work out.”

“Sounds like you took it bad,” Dean noticed.

“She was married,” Sam said, “thought he was dead, but he came back, so I left.”

“Her loss, so what about me?” Dean asked, pretending it was just casual curiosity.

“You lived with a woman and her son for about a year.”

“Didn't work out?” Dean said kind of feeling mild disappointment, he tried to imagine what it would have been like I f he'd woken up in bed with a woman instead of here, he was kind of glad he hadn't. It'd be hard to explain how he was suddenly ten years younger.

The idea came half out of no where, he wondered what he looked like at 36, did the years of hard living age him beyond his years? Was his hair thinner in places? Was he actually having to worry about what he ate? “Am I still this good looking?” He asked trying to make Sam laugh.

“You look about the same, just older.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a phone, “here.”

Sam slid his finger across the screen a few times then handed it to Dean, “so um, just press the gallery icon. It's the one with the mountains in the picture frame.”

Dean pretended to not be impressed with the phone. It was a touch screen, but it wasn't like there weren't some touch screen computers. It just looked a little different. “so they got rid of antennas?"

Sam gave him a weird look, “yeah, flip phones are pretty much non-existent. I mean you can still get them but they're really cheap and can't do anything but make calls.

“What else do you need a phone to do?” Dean asked then pretended to ignore the face Sam was giving him, “it's not like it's alien technology.” 

The screen filled with a picture of a close up picture of what looked like a crime scene, “slide your finger across the screen to go to the next picture,” Sam explained.

Dean attempted it, the picture moved hit the corner of the screen then bounced back to the middle. “What the hell?” Dean asked and tried it again.

“Go the other way,” Sam offered helpfully and Dean fought down his annoyance, he would have figured it out for himself in a minute. The next several pictures were varying degrees of disturbing. Farther back though he found a picture of himself with a redheaded girl on one side, and a brunette guy, his arm was over their shoulders holding a beer in one hand and a hand of cards in the other that was completely showing toward the camera, at least he'd had a good hand. Even if he hadn't had the presence of mind to keep it hidden.

“Who are they?” he asked, noting the similarities in the picture to the room they were in.

Sam looked over his shoulder, “Charlie is the girl, Cas is the guy.” He smiled, “it was the last time they were both here.”

“Where are – “ he cut himself off, the look on Sam's face told it all.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” Sam said, not looking at Dean, “I got her killed, and Cas is, well he's gone to, but we'll get him back, I promise.”

Dean didn't know what to say to that, but he could see the guilt on his brother's face, “you can't save everyone.” Dean reminded him, and pulled his brother into a hug, “as long as I've still got you,” he whispered against his brother's ear, “I don't think I'd survive if anything happened to you.”

Sam's arms wrapped around his back and squeeze him closer hard, “I know Dean,” he whispered, “we're all we've ever had.”

Dean smiled, “so, how about we get out of here for a while, go find some evil son of a bitch to put down?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

In retrospect maybe the idea of hitting a hunt was a bad idea. The more they drove the more he noticed how often Sam shifted in the seat, how his hand would occasionally press to spot on his shirt over the bandage.

  
It was still healing, and Dean knew he should be taking it easy. Even if Sam hadn't said anything, it was obvious to someone that knew him as well as Dean did, it was hurting like a son of a bitch.

Sam reached over the back seat and flipped the lid up on the cooler, wincing when the position tugged on his stitches.

“You okay?” Dean asked, last thing he wanted was to have to take Sam to a doctor and explain why he was out driving around when he had a major wound. “Seriously how long ago did you get out of the hospital?”

“Couple weeks,” Sam said, “don't worry I'm fine.”

“Did they let you out or did you walk out?”

“They had more important things to deal with like the dead werewolf in the lobby.”

He'd already decided they weren't going to hunt anything not while Sam was still recovering from a gut shot. Dean wasn't admitting that out loud though, not when he was flying down familiar highways with Sam sitting next to him. He kept noticing Sam watching him. Studying him like he was some mystery or puzzle that Sam was still trying to figure out. It made him uncomfortable, he wasn't sure whether it was because of the intensity of the look or because he felt the same. As long as he didn't think about it too closely he didn't mind. He was safe, happy, well fed, and managed to skip what had apparently been the hardest years of his life. Sam was going to send him back though.

That's what that look meant. As soon as he figured out how Dean had got there in the first place he was going to trade him for the brother that Sam wanted. He was cornered, on one hand he knew the outcome, he knew what had happened, on the other, living it. Having to go through the things that were coming? He didn't know how he'd handle that. Couldn't imagine it'd be well. Not if the things Sam had let slip were anything to go by.

It was going to be hell. Ten years of close calls and life threatening injuries, Was it really so bad if he just wanted to skip it? Get to the point where all that was behind them and keep going.

“Last time, you left me a message.” Sam said some time later, “we had to deal with Chronos, and you left it carved into a border of the house we were staying in. Where were you staying before you woke up in the bunker?”

“You're thinking it was a straight swap?” Dean asked, it was pretty genius. If he had switched places with his future self it might make sense his counterpart would be a little more eager to get back home, “wait last time? We can time travel?”

“Not exactly,” Sam said, “I mean there's a few different ways we have done it. You grabbed Chronos, our grandfather did a spell that was powered by the casters soul, a few angels can manage it, but doing it with passengers wipes them out.”

Dean could see the wheels turning in his brother's mind. See him putting the pieces together.

“You're serious?” Dean asked trying to figure it out, “time travel is a viable option?”

“You're here aren't you?” Sam said, “It's just one of possibilities.

He looked away from Dean out the window, “it's either time travel or another age spell and I'm not sure how to narrow it down. I'll figure it out though.”

“I know,” Dean said, and reached for the radio, there was only so much talking he was willing to deal with at one time.

Sam smiled slightly when dean started drumming on the steering wheel his voice picked up the chorus and Dean felt like he was probably the happiest he'd been since he got Sam back from Stanford. Maybe because now at least he knew he was never going to lose his brother again. Ten years and Sam was still right where he belonged.

“So, you think I'd have left a message?” He asked, “where?”

“Somewhere obvious,” Sam suggested.

“Think I'll remember this?” He asked,

“If it's time travel and not a age spell maybe, but you never told me anything about it,” Sam said.

“And if it's an age spell?” Dean didn't know how he felt about that. If something could just turn the clock back on him and make him forget everything that had happened how was he suppose to get it back?

As if he knew what Dean was worried about Sam said, “we'll figure out how to break it.”

“I know,” Dean said, smiling, “you always come through for me little brother.”

“Yeah,” Sam said softly, Dean spared a glance at him, for the first time since they started the trip Sam wasn't looking at him. His eyes on the passing scenery. Dean knew the look, the one Sam always had when there was something he didn't want to talk about, when he was too far into his own thoughts to share them.

Dean smiled, “besides, worst case scenario if it's time travel, we have an advantage, the version of me in the past already knows what's going to happen. So it's an unfair advantage.” he meant it as a joke but Sam glanced at him the look was serious.

“That's what I'm afraid of.” he said softly, “You'll try to change things, best case scenario it's a paradox risk.”

“Worst case scenario the universe implodes?” Dean asked, “what I know the drill. I'm just saying if it was going to implode wouldn't it have already happened wouldn't we be like in the middle of an apocalypse or something?”

Dean looked out the window, then winked playfully trying to drag a smile from his far too serious brother, “blue skies, sunshine, the world looks good to me.”

Sam didn't look at him, but he started gnawing on his thumb nail. It was good to see his anxious habits were still the same. Some things never change.


	6. Chapter 6

The motel that Dean had been staying in Sam didn't recognize at first. It was when they were inside the room that Sam kind of got the feeling he'd been there before but then almost all the motel rooms they'd been in kind of blurred together after a while.

“So, where do you want to start?” Dean asked, “Kind of looks like they've remodeled.

“Last time was in the base board.” Sam said, already scanning the room for somewhere that would be equally obvious.

The room wasn't that big, but after combing it from top to bottom they hadn't found anything.

“Maybe we're looking in the wrong place,” Sam suggested, “I mean there is a bar like next door.”

“I like the way you think,” Dean said smirking, “what kind of message are we looking for anyways? Something like, 'woke up in the wrong year, wish you were here?'”

“I don't know.” Sam said. They both had known it was a long shot to begin with, but it would have at least given them some idea where to start.

The disappointment on Sam's face needed wiped away fast. Dean grabbed his arm, “hey, I'm right here, okay, you know it's going to be okay, right?”

“Dean, you don't know what all we've been through, what all I've done.”

“I don't care.” He said, ignoring the unease that crept in on the defeated tone in his voice. “We'll figure it out, but right now I would kill for a beer and to see how that bartender's doing”

“Dude,” Sam said, “we're in the middle of something a little more important than your libido.”

“Sammy, how could you forget, nothing is more important than my libido.” Dean smiled, “besides I'll buy you a beer, and you can tell me everything that's happened.”

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

“It is if I'm going to be stuck here for a while.”

The bar was where he remembered it, the girl behind the bar was the same, except where she had been a smoking hot mid thirty ten years ago, now she was a drawn and tired looking forty. She still eyed Dean with the same slow inspection as he had the first time he came in, but this time instead of asking his name she said, “ID,”

He pulled out one of the cards Sam had made for him and handed it to her still kind of surprised she'd asked for it. “You don't look 26, Jimmy Paige?” She said, “this better not be fake.”

“I promise, My parents thought it'd be funny,” he tried not to be slightly disappointed she didn't seem to recognize him. “You know I've been in here before about ten years ago. I thought you might remember me.”

She looked him over again, “listen kid, I get a hundred people a night through here, sorry if your fantasy didn't play out the way you want it to.”

Dean took the card back and nodded, “well, never hurts to try.” he said, “two beers for me and my partner?” He pointed toward Sam, “and I'll get out of our hair.”

She glanced over at Sam then back to Dean, Something narrow next to suspicion in her eyes, “You sure you're okay?” She asked, glancing back down at the fake id still in his hand. It was laughable, except the look on her face was completely serious. “Listen kid, I don't think you're twenty-six anymore than I'm 29.” She wrote down her number on the back of a napkin, “but if you get into something you can't handle, call me, I'll come get you.”

He took the number, winked at her, and said, “thanks, I think I'm in good hands though.”

Dean slid into the booth next to Sam, “so the bartender thinks we're gay, and you're probably a pedophile.”

“You were over there two minutes, what the hell did you say?” Sam asked, his eyes going wide.

“Nothing, dude, relax, remember this shit happens all the time.”

“It's different when we look the same age.” Sam hissed.

“Will you relax, I mean technically, there's only like 2 years difference then there was before so it's not that big a deal.” He winked, “besides, it was a cheap reason for her to give me her number.”

He shoved the beer toward Sam and watched him start picking at the label. Dean took it back and opened it then handed it back, “drink it, don't play with it.”

Sam smirked a little, but it didn't quite reach is eyes, the concern still marred the lines on his forehead.

He deflated a little, looking down at the table and at the beer still open in his hands, “You don't want to know.”

The problem was Sam had a way of talking without saying anything. He talked about hunts, about vampires, which were suppose to be extinct but apparently were going to make a comeback in a few years. Talked about werewolves, and about ghosts but there was something missing in the stories, something big, that was just underneath what he was saying. Dean didn't think it was the ghosts that put the worn out look in his brother's eyes. Though that might have been Dean himself. His absence, even though he was right there was strong enough he could see the weight it had on Sam.

The beer bottles stood empty sentinels to their conversation. “Go get another round,” He said, using his foot to nudge Sam's leg to make sure he understood that Dean wanted him walking.

Sam nodded, didn't say anything else and slipped out of the booth. Going to the bar meant he had to walk past Dean though. Dean glanced over his shoulder, saw the bartender watching them winked at her with the biggest smile he could manage and impulsively pinched Sam's ass when he walked past.

Sam jumped slightly and glared at him, Dean held up his hands, “it wasn't me.”

Sam walked away but Dean could tell he was a little pissed off just with the way he moved. When sam put the beer in front of Dean he glared at him,

“Aw, come on don't be mad Sam, I was just teasing.”

“It's fine Dean.” Sam said his name like he was tired of the argument like he was tired of everything. And dean didn't want to look too close at the guilt he felt when Sam's eyes landed on him, the way he seemed to be staring at him trying to count the differences.

“So I'm pretty sure you didn't do anything in the bunker that would have caused this, so what did you do here? Who'd you talk to or go home with or what? Did you piss off a witch?”

“I didn't do anything. I already told you that, fell asleep in a motel room, with you, I should probably add, and woke up alone a bedroom ten years later. And wouldn't you remember fi I just magically aged 10 years over night?”

“Well you did age like 40 once, but it's because you lost a poker game.” Sam's eyes landed on the door and the smile melted from his face, 'shit, we have to get out of here.”

“What? Why?” Dean looked back over his shoulder, the only thing he saw was a woman looking around the room. She was wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline and had long wavy hair that looked about right for pulling. She was surveying the room with bored disinterest like she was looking for something, and wasn't impressed with what she saw.

“Hello gorgeous,” Dean whispered under his breath and started to slide out of the booth.

“Dean,” Sam grabbed his wrist, “come on,”

Dean resisted only for a moment, then Sam was pulling him toward the opposite direction. Dean went without asking what Sam was doing until they were slipping through the back door.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Sam muttered.

“Who is she?” Dean asked, his skin felt like it was crawling, like when his eyes had been on her, all he'd wanted was to go to her, it felt magnetic. Once she was out of sight, it was worse, because it was like a spell was being lifted, like he could think clearly again, and that clarity only made the fog stand out worse.

“Amara,” Sam whispered, “look, don't worry about her, we'll deal with her when you're you again, for now we need to get as many miles between us and her as we can get.

“Since when do we run away?” Dean asked, “let's go in there, and take her out.”

“We can't,.” Sam dragged him farther down the alley, “not alone, and if she's here, she's probably looking for you, so we need to go.”

“It's too late for that,” A silky feminine voice whispered, it's notes wrapped Dean into knots. And he faced her again, this time close enough to see into the depths of her eyes. She looked at Dean with a smile, “I told you Dean, we're bound. There's no where you can go I can't follow,”

It was like drowning, he didn't even want to breath, just wanted whatever she was offering him.

“Did you really think you could escape me like this?” She asked her hand coming up to stroke down his jaw, “that I wouldn't see who you really are beneath who you were?”

“Do you know what caused this?” Sam's voice broke the silence spread between them, Dean could feel where Sam was still gripping his wrist trying to pull him away from her influence.

“Yes,” She said, the words a breath. Her eyes turned from Dean to Sam and Dean wanted to draw her attention back to him, he felt he was safe from her, but Sam...he thought that maybe Sam was in more danger then he ever had been before.

“It's magic, underneath all those layers of spells an protections, I can still see you Dean, and I can see you fighting your own doing, trying to protect him from me.” Her lips breathed against his own, “You will be mine Dean, You can't hide from me.”

In the next heartbeat she was gone leaving him and Sam alone in the alley.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The drive back to Kansas was long, but mostly quiet. Sam drove, because he demanded the keys and Dean was still feeling weird from the encounter to fight him on it. It wasn't until they made it back to relative safety, the car parked in an underground garage, Dean really couldn't wait to explore, that he finally worked up the courage to ask, “what was she?” He didn't want to admit he was shaken, for a minute he'd felt out of control. Like she could have told him to do almost anything and he would have tried to do it. The longer he thought on it though, the more it scared him.

“Don't ask.” Sam said, and the note of panic in his voice did nothing to ease Dean's own nerves.

“Stop trying to protect me,” Dean grabbed him and shoved Sam up against the nearest support column forcing him to stop and actually look at Dean, for a second Sam actually looked surprised.

“Talk to me.” Dean ordered, “I'm not asking Sam, you know what we're facing, I can't go into this blind..” He thought about tacking a please on at the end, but it wouldn't matter. Sam would tell him what he wanted to know, there was never a doubt.

“Just give me a little more time,” Sam whispered, “please.”

“You heard her, it's not time travel it's a spell. There's no messages to find, there's not going to be some easy fix, I need to know at least what we're up against.”

“Try a god,” Sam said, “or the sister of one at least.” There was a pause where Sam didn't meet his eyes, “I let her out, I'm going to put her back where she came from, I promise, but I need you back first, I can't do this without my brother.”

“I'm right here.”

“No, Dean, I need the one that's been with me the past decade, not a kid, I can't let you walk into this at all, not like this.”

He could see the worry on Sam's face, see the way it was tearing him apart trying to do what he thought was right. All he had to do to let Dean help him shoulder some of the burden would be to give up, and just tell him.

Dean knew whatever happened to him was probably his own doing, but whatever he thought it was going to accomplish, it hadn't worked, not if the woman was after him regardless.

“Sam,” Dean whispered, “just let me help. Whatever you need me to do.”

Sam nodded then said, “okay, but we need to figure out what you did first, if it's something you did intentionally there has to be something here, we'll figure it out.”

Sam shoved him away, not roughly but enough dean let him go. He followed his brother down the halls to the room he had first woken up in. The room he knew now had been his for a couple years solid. It was weird to know eventually he'd have a permanent home, even if it wasn't a conventional one.

“You want to help, look for something out of place, spell work, something like that.”

Sam started at probably the most obvious place, pulling a stack of magazines out of a box. When there didn't seem to be anything useful in it he shoved it back where he got it and jerked open the dresser drawer. Dean watched for a second, before jumping in. he wasn't sure what he was looking for but like most things in their lives, he expected to recognize it if he saw it.

“I don't think we're going to find anything in here,” Dean said, “i mean if I was going to do something and didn't want you knowing about it I think I'd try somewhere a little less likely for you to just walk through the door.”

“The Dungeon.” Sam said like the thought was the most obvious think in the world.

“Run that by me again,” Dean asked sure he'd misheard, and half afraid that he hadn't.

 


	8. Chapter 8

When Sam said dungeon apparently he meant it. Dean looked at the small room. There were chains, actual chains. He ran his hand over one of them, “Kinky.” He said, “hey Sam, you spend a lot of time in here?”

Sam didn't answer, too busy going through the rest of the small rooms contents.

“Fine,” Dean muttered, “guess I'll just talk to myself then.”

There was actually some pretty interesting stuff in their dungeon. Dean couldn't imagine they'd ever actually use any of it, especially since there was an entire table of things that looked like they were made for torture. He picked up a knife and checked the blade, it was a hell of a lot sharper than he expected it to be.

He put his abused thumb to his lips and looked over at Sam, he didn't seem to notice Dean had just cut himself. He leaned against the table, “found anything yet?”

“No,” Sam admitted.

Dean could tell that obviously, “I think you should stop looking.”

“What?” Sam turned toward him, and leveled him with a look that almost made him wish he'd kept his mouth shut.

“If this is something I choose to do, I think it's for a reason, and it's probably a good one.”

“I don't care,” Sam said, “you can't just erase everything we've been through because you don't want to deal with it.”

Dean didn't like the feeling that he was getting, he didn't know the reasons he did what he did, so he couldn't defend against them, but he knew it had to have been the right call, he knew there had to have been a real reason for it.

“It's going to be okay,” He said and moved to drag Sam into a hug, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry for whatever I did, and why ever I thought I needed to do it, but you have to stop, please, just take a breath, take a break, something anything. I'll fix this, I promise, but don't do this to yourself.”

For a second he thought that he wasn't going to give into it, but Sam sagged against his shoulder and Dean let out the breath he had been subconsciously holding. “Look, when was the last time you ate?” Dean asked, “let me make you something, anything you want, just you got to let me take care of you.”

“I don't need you to take care of me,” Sam said and Dean pretended it didn't hurt to hear it, he knew of course that Sam didn't really need him, but he needed to do something, needed to make sure that Sam was okay, and that he was eating, and that he wasn't going to go do something stupid.

“Please,” Dean said, “I need to do something for you man, need to make this up somehow.”

Sam let him lead the way out of the dungeon. But Dean followed him to the kitchen. “This place is awesome,” Dean whispered seeing the industrial kitchen. “this is mine?”

“Yeah, turns out you actually know how to cook something other than Mac and Cheese.” Sam said smiling slightly.

“I can cook lots of things, it's not my fault you're the world's pickiest eater,” Dean rolled his eyes, “not everyone can live off Salad, or have you finally realized that all of life's problems can be solved with bacon.”

“Pretty sure bacon is going to be the thing that kills you.”

“Kevin Bacon maybe.” He shrugged, and started going through the refrigerator, “is there anything in here that isn't two weeks past it's expiration date?”

Sam didn't answer, which either meant he didn't know or he had found something else to brood about. Dean left him to where ever his thoughts had taken him while he sorted through the salvageable foods in the refrigerator, it wasn't much but he found a package of hamburger meat that seemed okay.

“I wish I could call Cas,” Sam said, dean looked back over his shoulder to see that he had taken to staring at the wall opposite him, a self depreciating laugh and he said, “Just what I need, another run in with a psychopathic angel on top of you completely forgetting anything about them.”

“Wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked, half afraid Sam was having a break down.

“Cas is an angel,” he said, “he's our friend, and we got him kidnapped.” He took to biting on his nail again, a few seconds later he said, “twice, we got him kidnapped twice.”

“If he's been kidnapped why are we hanging around here? Let's go mount a rescue mission. That is still what we do?” Dean asked throwing the skillet a little too loudly onto the stove. 

“Yeah, except we don't know where he is, and the thing that has him, well, you already met her once, you think you would have drooled a little less if you'd known she had one of our friends hostage?”

"I didn't drool." Dean argued, if he had he wouldn't have noticed, but he did have some pride left damn it, "okay first food then we'll figure out how to save our friend."

 


	9. Chapter 9

Dean wasn't sure when Sam had stopped trying to find a way to fix him, his brother's eyes lingered on him with a kind of unspoken sadness. Like he was mourning the person that he'd lost.

“Maybe it's better this way,” Sam said after a while.

“What is?” Dean asked not sure he was following the logic.

“You, I mean I haven't seen you this happy in years, this carefree or relaxed. I mean if the world is ending, maybe it's better that you can have some peace first. Before what comes after.”

“You can't know that.” Dean said.

“Dean, we've been through so much, to hell and back and that was just last month.” Sam sighed and the sound was chilling, because it didn't sound like an exaggeration. He was talking about going to hell like it was routine for them, normal and expected and mundane.

“Why don't you sugar coat it a little?” Dean asked, the look on his brother's face was too much for him to try to discern, he looked older than 32, something in his eyes looked almost inhuman; beyond time.

Sam didn't answer for a while, he was quiet, Dean hated how quiet he'd become. It twisted in him, how much he missed his little brother, how much he missed the sound of his laugh, How badly he wanted to not be here, displaced from his own time, and it didn't matter that he knew it was the past that he'd already lived it and there was no going back. He'd do anything to see Sam smile, even for a minute.

“We should go out,” Dean said, “find a couple girls, get some drinks, just have some fun for one night.”

“Dean – “

“No, I mean it, when was the last time you got laid, I mean practically everything about you right now is screaming 'needs to get off'”

Sam's expression shifted to one of annoyance bordering on anger, “you want to go out, go, you know where to find me when the bar closes.”

“I want you to come with me,” he said, hoping that Sam wouldn't make him say _I want to spend time with you._

“I don't have time to babysit you, the world is ending out there, and you can't stop thinking about your dick for two minutes.” Sam shifted uncomfortably, and then rolled his shoulders like he was shrugging off the entire thing. “I've got more important things to do.”

It stung, it hurt a lot actually if he was being completely honest with himself. Sam wasn't looking at him anymore, had turned back to a book that was in a language Dean couldn't read.

“What are you looking for?” Dean asked at least if Sam was working, he could still be helpful.

“God.” Sam said, “that's about our last chance.”

“God?” Dean let the word hang between them, “well I hate to break it to you Sammy, but God's been a no show for the past two thousand years, I don't think he's going to be making an appearance now.”

“Yeah, I know, didn't bother showing up for the last apocalypse, why would this one be any different. It's just his sister.”

“Last apocalypse?” Dean asked, “is it really that regular of a thing?” The lack of an answer was disturbing as was the way Sam looked at him like he might bite. “geez Sammy, learn to take a joke.” Sam wasn't laughing though.

“There's alcohol here,” Sam said, “but if you're looking to get laid you're going to have to go somewhere else.”

There was the choice, did he admit he didn't care so much about where he was drinking as long as Sam was with him, and that the point was he wanted Sam to take a damn break. He stalked out of the room to find the whiskey. Glasses were easy to locate, but when he got back Sam was still buried in the book.

He reached for the book and shut it. “Read later,” he said setting the half full glass in front of his brother.

He tipped his own back, and swallowed the contents and grinned widely when Sam followed his lead.

“That's my boy,” he whispered, and poured a little more into the glass.

* * *

 

Sam was drunk, which was good, except Dean was also way past his limit. The room had taken on a fuzzy edge that he was just doing his best not to try to focus on. His eyes wouldn't focus, but he was trying to pick Sam's form out of the fog that dipped and moved around him. He was dizzy, no, that wasn't right. He shook his head, and that made it worse. “Sammy, Come here” he said feeling like his tongue was too thick in his mouth. It had gotten slow and stupid.

He felt Sam's head thump against his shoulder and couldn't stop the smile that broke out on his lips. He kissed the top of his brother's head, “hi bitch.” he whispered, “thought you were reading again.”

“too drunk to read,” Sam said, “also, that book sucks.”

Dean laughed at how offended Sam sounded, like the book had personally insulted him by not having what he was looking for in it. “You should go to sleep, you're drunk.” Sam said, “like really drunk.”

“Dude, you're the one leaning on my arm, besides, I can't the floor might start spinning if I try to walk.”

Somehow they made it up and down the hall, Dean fell onto his mattress and let out a comfortable sigh, “This is the best mattress ever.” He whispered, then opened his eyes to see Sam still standing in the door, leaning against the frame watching him.

“You coming in?” He asked, “or you going to stand in the hall and stare like a freak?”

Sam hesitated, “we could watch a movie, I know of a few good ones I know you don't remember.”

“Anything you want.” Dean said and rolled over to make room on the bed for him. “but no chick flicks.”

“You're an idiot.” Sam said smiling slightly lopsidedly, “you love chick flicks, you love Dirty Dancing, and Ghost, and you even like Titanic.”

“Okay, one, Swayze doesn't count, ever. Two, it's not a chick flick if the chick is naked in it.”

“You are so full of shit,” Sam said, shoving Dean as he got settled onto the bed.

By the end of the movie, which they both realized very quickly they were too drunk to follow Sam was laying almost across Dean. It was nice, made him seem smaller, made it so Dean couldn't see the imprint of time on his face, just the too long soft hair that curled around his finger tips. Which was also nice, it felt good to just touch Sam, to know he was safe. Dean knew he had done good even if he couldn't remember it.

There was a weird hitch to Sam's breathing that ean didn't think had anything to do with the movie, at least he was pretty sure a light saber fight did not tend to have that kind of reaction.

Sam twisted slightly and dean felt him rub his cheek against Dean's stomach.

“They can't kill him!” Dean yelled almost knocking Sam off the bed, when he jumped up toward the tv, “there's no way, they can't kill Solo. He's got to be okay.”

“Dean,” Sam said softly, “anyone can die.”

“Well it's stupid.” He said, then saw the look on his brother's face, some thing that was somewhere well past the point of upset.

“whoa, what's wrong,” he asked.

Sam shook his head and forced a smile, “nothing, just really really drank too much. It's fine Dean, ignore it.”

“Sure, I'm the weepy drunk, you're not and it's weirding me out a little.”

For a while Sam didn't say anything, then the words came out like the were being dragged from him. So quiet Dean wasn't entirely sure he was talking for a few seconds, “you don't know what I did.” He said, “if you knew,” he shook his head, “it's okay, I get it. You didn't want to remember, but I needed you, and now I'm trying to do the right thing, but it's hard when you're right here.”

There was something big coming, big as the end of the world big, Dean felt it coming toward him, and he wasn't ready for it, he knew whatever came out of his brother's mouth next would either be deflection or would hurt like hell.

Sam took a breath, “I'm sorry,” he said, “I don't know what's wrong with me, I shouldn't have said anything.” He repeated, “I'm sorry.” Like it was the only thing he had to say that he really wanted dean to hear.

“You didn't do this to me,” Dean said, “you don't have anything to be sorry for.”

“You don't know what I did.” Sam argued. His hand rested just below Dean's neck, and Dean realized if he was still wearing it, that would be where his necklace hung, it was an almost phantom ache, like he'd lost a limb or something. Like he'd lost a piece of himself without remembering where, but he knew he'd never get it back.

“Whatever you did I'm sure it was for a reason.” Dean argued.

“Yeah,” Sam said, “it always was, but you don't know what I'm capable of, you can't.”

“Sam man, come on, you're drunk, this isn't doing you any good.”

“stop,” Sam whispered, “Stop being nice to me. You don't know about the blood, you don't know about the demons, or that mom died because of me, or that you died because of me, that you...” he closed his eyes and shook his head, “I promised I won't let you down again, so if this second chance is what you wanted, what you really wanted, to live your life without knowing what I really am, then I won't be the one to tell you.”

“I know what you are,” Dean said, “you're my brother, nothing else matters, nothing in the world means as much to me as you do.”

“I know.” Sam whispered, “trust me Dean, I know exactly what you're willing to do for me, and to me, because you know best. It's okay, I know you love me.”

“Do you?” Dean asked looking over his brother, “do you have any idea how much seeing you like this tears me up? What the hell happened to you man, you use to be-”

“I know,” Sam interrupted him, “you're not the first to tell me what I use to be. I use to be braver right? Use to have the guts to do what needed done, I use to be the guy that saved the world. That was never me, not really.” he whispered, then his voice dropped to the far away sound only the really fucking wasted seem capable of, “I'm sorry Dean. I'm so sorry for all of it, I'm sorry I break everything I touch.”

“Sam,” Dean grabbed his arm and made him look at him, made him pay attention, “you don't break everything you touch. You don't okay, I don't care what happened, I don't care what I don't remember, I know you, better than I know myself, I know you better than anyone. Next to dad, you're the best hunter I've ever known, you're smart, and you're determined, and you're stubborn as hell, but you're not a bad person. I don't care what you think you've done, I know you, you're still my little brother. Sam as always, just a little more damaged.”

“People have died because of me.” Sam whispered.

“Did you kill them?” Dean asked, not sure what he would say if Sam said yes.

“Some of them, I might as well have.”

“Go ahead, name one person you killed because you wanted to. Name me one person that you personally actually killed,” he cringed at the thought, “and it has to be you, not a monster pretending to be you, not someone trying to hurt you, not someone that got hurt on a hunt. _You.”_

“That's not fair.” Sam said quietly, “the demons we kill instead of exorcising, the people who died trying to help us, the people that died just because they knew us. Those are all on me.”

“no.” Dean said, “that's on the monsters, that's on the demons and the things that killed them. Tell me one time in your life you killed someone just because you wanted to.”

“Don't do this.” Sam whispered, “don't try to make me feel better, don't try to make it okay.”

“I have to, I've got to look out for my pain in the ass little brother” Dean said, “this job will eat at you until something else does. Look at Dad, look at Bobby, look at every hunter we've ever known. Not a single one of us is a poster child for mental stability, but this shit, Sam you're better than this.”

“You left me.” Sam whispered, “after everything we went through you decided you'd rather not remember and you did this, so I have to pick up the pieces and I have to do it alone, while looking at what might as well be your ghost. So thanks a lot Dean, but I don't want to hear anything you have to say.”

At a loss for words Dean dragged Sam back down onto the mattress into a hug, he didn't pull away, but he didn't really let himself sink into the hug either.

Then dean whispered, “One good thing Sammy, think of one good thing you can tell me.”

Sam snorted a mockery of laughter, “One good thing, you don't have to remember the past decade of me letting you down.”

“You don't remember,” Dean whispered, which why would he, to ean it felt like weeks ago to Sam it had been years, long hard ones, “I want to be with you.” Dean said, “don't ever think that I don't, letting you leave, knowing you wouldn't come back, that almost killed me. I don't want you with me because you have to be with me, I want you with me, because I love you, because I can't function without you.”

“Yeah Dean, I know.” Sam whispered against his neck, “One good thing?” He swallowed, the look on his face promised that whatever he was about to say wasn't going to be good, it was going to be something that was as far from good as it got.

Dean nodded, felt the knot of worry at the back of his throat.

“I know who your soulmate is.”

“Bullshit.” Dean said, “there's no way you believe in that shit.”

“Well it's true, some really lucky people have soulmates. we even met a few cupids. Creepy really,” he said and shivered at the memory.

Dean felt like he was just being offered one of the secrets of the universe, how many people got to know for a hundred percent sure who they were suppose to spend the rest of their life with? And Sam was offering to tell him. Offering it with a look that bordered on anger, with his jaw set tight, like he thought the information was going to gut him when he gave in and asked for it.

It was a dare, hanging on the air, because it was suppose to be good right? But the look, the gleam of anger and something deeper in Sam's eyes told him that it wasn't being offered to make Dean rethink their lives. It was being offered to turn him away from the subject. Probably in a way he'd never get up the courage to keep asking.

“Do you want to know?” Sam whispered his breath was warm against Dean's neck and he felt that something was immensely wrong.

Dean was nothing if not brave, and being pretty lit still helped, “sure,” he forced to word past his dry lips.

“Are you sure Dean, when you know any hope you ever had for the apple pie life goes with it.”

“Normal never was in the cards for me,” Dean whispered, his heart was beating faster, something akin to adrenaline was surging in his veins and he felt afraid. Genuinely afraid of whatever Sam was about to reveal. What if she was someone they failed to save, what if it was someone he'd never be able to find, what if he spent the rest of his life knowing that his soulmate was out of his reach. What if it was a guy? The last thought almost talked him out of it, but that wasn't possible.

He nodded, “want to give me a hint first?” He said, “I could try to guess.”

“No guesses,” Sam said, “yes or no.”

He was too drunk to play this game, but what were the odds Sam would ever offer to tell him again? “Okay,” he said, “tell me.”

If possible Sam moved closer, Dean felt where his leg was pressed against his brothers, intimately close, Sam licked his lips and looked like he was debating whether to go ahead and deliver on the offered goods, finally he pulled back far enough to stare Dean in the eyes when he revealed the name, except it wasn't a name, instead he smiled a vicious look that didn't reach his eyes, “We share a heaven, assuming we both get there, you'll have to be stuck with me forever.”

Dean let the words sink in,they felt weird, wrong, a twisted version of the truth. “You're saying my soulmate is”

“Me.” Sam finished the sentence, “seven billion people in the world and you get stuck with a junkie, a drop out, not just a guy that almost destroyed the entire world, but your own brother,”

“Sam,” Dean whispered his name, “stop fucking around.” he tried to laugh.

Sam shrugged but didn't own up to the joke, Dean felt his stomach roll with the after affects of too much whiskey and not enough food. He tried to breath deep and slow to ease the feeling away, tried to focus on what Sam had told him. The look was still burning in his brother's eyes and Dean recognized it now, not anger, but hatred, black hot and burning at both ends. And Sam was holding the word between them, asking Dean to believe it and burn them both down. It was too much, it made a weird kind of sense. Of course Sam was the person he was meant to spend the rest of his life with He loved Sam more than anything, but Sam was first and foremost and always his little brother. No matter how old dean physically was, his job was to protect Sam, from anything and everything. He couldn't believe he would have acted on it, but the word “soulmate” floated between them, was that what he wanted to forget? Had he either accidentally or intentionally crossed that line? Was Sam blaming himself for something Dean had done? He looked at his brother, older, and wiser, and so much more broken then he remembered, he didn't feel like he' been physically intimate with his brother, it seemed like something that wrong would leave some kind of permanent mark on his soul, but he did believe that he had done something that completely rocked the foundation Sam built his world on. That Dean had done something that made sam think it was his fault. He believed he was a monster. Dena knew that it had to have been because of what he'd done, or something he said before. Sam must hate him for that. The choice floated up, to want so badly to be normal, to fight against everything for just the chance, and then to find out that he was fated to spend the rest of his life in not only an incestuous relationship, but one with a guy. the choice was easy, one way or another he was going to fix the damage he caused. So sam was still caught up on the word soulmate, Dean knew it had to be more substantial than that, if he could fin a way to prove to his brother they could be soulmates and still do their own thing.

Dean felt the urge to punch him, for breaking a quiet moment between them, but when he grabbed Sam's shirt, saw the flicker between fear an acceptance he knew he' been going about it all wrong Sam didn't need proven wrong. He needed to for once be shown that he was actually wanted, not just being dragged along for the ride.

The distance between them closed in the space of a heartbeat an Dean felt his brother's baby soft plush lips parted like they were welcoming dean into the place he really belonged. .

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was easy to blame the alcohol. It was easy to blame the stress of jumping ten years into the future, it was easy to blame Sam and the way he just let Dean kiss him. But it wasn't nearly as easy as it was to blame himself. Not now that it was over, not now that Sam was across the room from him, staring at dean like he had just lost his damn mind.

“What the hell Dean?!” Sam rubbed the back of his hand across his lips like he was trying to scrub the taste away.

“I thought it's what you wanted,” Dean said, “That's what this was all about right? That I what, dumped you or some shit? Did a fucking spell to erase it from my own damn mind, I thought...” he closed his eyes, so he wouldn't see the disgust on his brother's face. That wasn't what he meant to happen. He was still trying to understand just what the hell had happened.

“You thought what Dean?” Sam whispered, the anger gone from his voice, again he sounded tired.

Dean shrugged, “I thought we were soulmates, I mean it makes sense, that's what it sounded like you were saying all the crap about me leaving you, and the things you've one that I don't know about, and the guilt trip you seem to be on. I thought that was why.”

Sam didn't say anything, he ran his hand through his hair and looked around the room, “you know what, I can't deal with this right now.” He said, “tell you what, stay here, I'm going to go get the rest of that bottle.”

Dean watched him go, half expecting him not to come back, he was feeling the buzz of alcohol receding just a little. It was fucked up. It was beyond fucked up. What the hell had he been thinking? Sam knocked at the door. Dean was actually surprised that he'd come back, had thought for sure that he was just going to walk out and leave him to suffer through the sick feeling in his stomach alone.

He handed Dean one of the glasses and poured the whiskey in the bottom of it, before filling his own glass. Dean held it in his hand for a second, felt the offer of absolution in the form of drunken forgetfulness, and wondered if that was Sam's plan. Were they just going to drink until they could pretend it never happened?

Somehow he didn't think there was enough alcohol in the world for that. The thing was, he didn't have that far to go. His fingertips were practically numb as it was. The last of the bottle was split between them and he smiled at his brother shyly over the rim of the glass, “really fucked this one up huh?” he asked, and couldn't fight back the laughter that spilled from his lips. The whiskey burned, and he hoped it was the cleansing kind of burn. The kind that would bring with it nothing but a hangover and a black out fog where his memory of the night should have been.

Sam had kept his distance, had dragged a chair up next to the bed, but that was the closest he got to Dean, and he didn't say anything beyond occasionally refilling their glasses.

Dean didn't need anymore, really didn't need what he'd already had, but he'd drank it, because what else could he do. He needed Sam to know, before he got too drunk to remember to tell him. “Sammy,” He whispered, “come back over here, you're too far away.”

“I'm right beside you Dean,” Sam said, his words a little slow. His eyes were drifting in long slow blinks that looked like he was about to fall asleep sitting, “just finish the drink.”

Dean looked down at the amber liquid, saw himself reflected in it and tossed it back, swallowing all of it as quickly as he could, “okay, it's empty, now come here.”

Sam stood up on unsteady legs and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed, his head found his hands and he looked like he was probably going to be sick.

“Hey,” Dean whispered, “you don't...” the train of thought escaped him. “what was I saying?” he asked.

Sam shrugged, “ 'm not drunk enough to understand you,”

That wasn't quite right, but Dean wasn't going to try to figure out what Sam meant. “Hey, I remember,” he said, as the thought reformed, he needed to apologize before he forgot what he was sorry for, “I love you.” he said. Because that was the most important part, Sam had to know that.

“I know.” Sam said.

“No, you don't know, how can you know? I don't even know.” He was okay, just that wasn't what he was trying to say, “just wanted to fix it, thought we were,” he got distracted the word forever floating in his mind, “are we really going to be stuck together forever?” He asked at last, “like forever forever.”

“If they let us.” Sam answered.

“Good.” Dean said, it was good, “cause you can't hate me forever,” he tried to imagine what that would be like, “no, you might be able to hate me forever, but I love you, you're my brother and I love you and I want to see your stupid face forever, even if you hate me.”

“I don't hate you,” Sam said. “I could never hate you.”

“Good,” Dean said, and put his hand on his brother's back, “lay down Sammy, you're too drunk to keep sitting.”

“I'm fine,” Sam whispered, but dean didn't listen he was already pulling his brother onto the mattress. Sam shifted slightly getting comfortable Dean could see his eyes already closing.

“Sammy?” Dean whispered putting his lips against his brother's shoulder and kissing him there, overwhelmed with the affection he suddenly felt for him.

“Hmm?” Sam murmured quietly.

“I'm sorry.”

“Jerk.” Sam whispered.

“ 'was trying to help.” Dean said. He pulled on Sam's shoulder till he rolled onto his back, for a second his eyes opened and he focused on Dean.

“You're not going to kiss me again are you?”

“Probably not,” Dean said quietly, “once was enough.”

“Good.” Sam said his arm came up over his head and he closed his eyes, “What the hell were you thinking?” He laughed, then said “you're such a freak.”

“Takes one to know one,” Dean whispered, glad to see Sam smiling even if it was because he was laughing at Dean doing something amazingly stupid. .

“Yeah,” Sam sighed and rolled over onto his side facing away from dean, “didn't kiss you though.”

Dean thought about saying something, Sam was already asleep though so he whispered “'goodnight Sammy" before stretching out and letting the warm buzz of the alcohol in his veins lull him to a black out sleep.

 


	11. Chapter 11

There are few things in life as bad as a hangover. The headache, the sticky dry feeling in his mouth, and the way his stomach hurts are all reasons why he hates hang overs, but the other reason is for a few seconds when he first wakes up before he opens his eyes he's never quite sure where he ended up the night before.

As much fun as drinking is, waking up with a hangover is not in the same neighbor as a fun way to start the morning.

Two things had dean's attention before his eyes even opened, the first was that his arm was hurting and tingling from the weight on it, the second was the soft hair against his cheek. He considered just going back to sleep and not bothering figuring it out, but the second problem with drinking before bed, his bladder was just damn near to the bursting point.

For a second he was disoriented, then the night before came back into focus. Alcohol burred in some places, but for the most part he remembered just enough to feel absolutely mortified. Sam was sleeping his breath soft and quiet in the still room. Dean was careful not to wake his brother when he moved. The low lights of the bunker still made his head throb in time to his pulse, but it could have been a lot worse.

He found his way to the bathroom then back to his bed. For a second he considered waking Sam up, sending him back to his own room. If Sam was half as hungover as dean was then it would probably be kinder to let him sleep it off.

Dean found the aspirin. Dry swallowed two of them and put the bottle next to the bed. He checked the time, 5:44, whether that was am or pm he didn't really know. Time was weird without natural light. He crawled back into the bed, careful not to wake up his brother. Though he still felt sick and more than a little tired, he found himself watching Sam, wondering what their lives had been like. The few strands of gray in his brother's hair made him even more curious, how was he that old already? It was weird to think of the little brother he'd seen not a week before in a motel room chasing after revenge had turned into this stranger in his bed.

The stranger with ageless eyes and gray in his hair who cried silent tears he thought Dean didn't see. He wished he could remember why he did what he did, so he could tell Sam and know a hundred percent the reason. Why he thought this was a good idea, but he couldn't.

“I'm going to fix this,” he whispered to the silent room. Sam shifted in his sleep moving turning toward Dean's voice.

The second time Dean woke up he still felt like shit, but he could feel Sam watching him. Okay, so obviously the plan to drink the moment away had failed on both parts. He made the decision before opening his eyes to pretend it had worked though. To pretend that he didn't remember completely misreading everything that Sam had told him. He cracked his eyes open, “good morning,” he grumbled.

“You okay?” Sam asked like he was checking him for injuries caused by more than just two bottles of whiskey.

“I think I'll live.” Dean said, sitting up and surveying the bed.

“Breakfast?” Sam asked.

“God no,” Dean said, “I don't think it'd stay down.”

The look of relief on his brother's face was answer enough. Though if they weren't going to get breakfast it did bring up an uncomfortable question of what they were going to do to avoid talking about the night before.

Apparently Sam had the answer, he handed Dean a couple more of the aspirin and a glass of water, “sleep it off,” he said and smiled slightly, “you look like hell.”

Dean swallowed the pills and laid back down, if he could sleep off what was actually bothering him he would, but the hangover had pretty much passed. He was just left with the other sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The silence in the room was going to end up driving him crazy. He shifted and rolled across the mattress, it took maybe twenty minutes before he gave up. Maybe another ten before he got the courage to go face Sam even though he knew Sam thought he didn't remember.

When he finally did leave his room, he got a sudden craving for coffee before talking to Sam, he told needed something to wake him up a little more, it wasn't like he was avoiding Sam, if Sam came into the kitchen where he was it'd be fine so he wasn't avoiding him, he was just trying to think of a way he could help. Something that ease the frayed nerves from the night before.

An idea came to him, a spark of inspiration that was so simple he had to wonder how it had never occurred to them before.

He left the coffee cup empty on the counter and went to find Sam. Who was predictably hidden behind a small fort built of ancient books. Like he tried to build a wall between himself and the rest of the room and just ran out of books before he actually got it started. Dean didn't really like the image, not if he was the thing Sam was trying to keep out.

“I got an idea,” dean said to get his attention.

“I'll call the press.” Sam answered without looking up.

“Shut up,” Dean said and smiled, “so the Amara chick, she's got our friend?”

“Technically,” Sam answered hesitantly.

“and she and I we have this..thing?” Dean was pushing for some confirmation that he had some pull with her, even a little could possibly be enough if she were willing to negotiate.

“I'm not sure thing would be the best word for it, but yeah.”

“Why don't I just ask for him?” Dean suggested, it was a long shot, but she hadn't seemed to interested in keeping Dean from leaving in the alley. It was the pull she had on him that made it hard not the other way around.

“Are you serious?” Sam asked looking at Dean like he'd just grown and extra head and Dean wondered how many times in a twenty four hour day he could put that look on his brother's face.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because it's suicide.” Sam suggested helpfully.

It wasn't an answer, which made Dean think maybe it was the answer, the obvious answer, and Sam knew it, probably had thought of it before Dean had. . They both knew it, but while Sam searched for something else, god only knew what was happening to the person Sam claimed was their friend.

Sam gave him a thoughtful look and leaned back in the chair studying dean. He ran his fingertips over his palm then back up at dean, placing his hands flat on the table. “Don't do something stupid.” he said, “I know you, you do stupid things when you feel guilty rather than dealing with it. Don't try to confront her not until we know we can win.”

“Yeah, you're probably right.” Dean said, which he did feel bad about it, but if it worked, then Sam could be mad at him all he wanted later. “hey, I'm going to go get some real food, you want anything?”

“Still kind of queasy,” Sam answered, “i can't believe you're not.”

“What can I say, youth has it's advantages.” Dean answered.

“Dean I'm serious. Don't try to take this on by yourself.”

Dean said, “It's just a supply run I promise.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Dean parked the car in front of a grocery store. The parking lot was mostly empty except the spots closest to the front doors. He spun the keys on his finger debating whether to go ahead and get what he needed first, if it worked he didn't think he'd want to go grocery shopping after, and they did need some stuff, if it didn't well, he tried not to think about that option. It was possible she wouldn't even answer.

There wasn't really an option there, it was no choice, he was just wasting time. He pocketed the keys and walked around the back of the building. The store's loading bay was empty. A stack of boxes and a stained dumpster were the only things back there, no security cameras and none of the stores employees were on break back there.

For a minute he felt too exposed, he should probably have considered somewhere a little more remote but he needed to do something immediately, needed to find out if it'd work, and if it didn't, he needed to at least have some time away from Sam, a way to figure out how to make up for the ways that he'd screwed everything up.

He realized he wasn't a hundred percent sure that she even would answer him. If praying would work or if the ancient godlike creature had a cellphone. Somehow he doubted it. It was almost like a leap of faith, he'd send it out that he wanted to talk to her and hope she felt like listening.

He closed his eyes, felt like a damn idiot, he didn't even know how to start this. “Amara,” he swallowed, wondering if he might be able to tell when she was paying attention to him. It wouldn't surprise him, but all he felt was self conscious. “You know what happened to me, and I don't remember you, but Sam says you have one of our friends. I want him back, so let's talk.” He wasn't sure how to end it and grappled for something, “Amen, or ten four or whatever” he whispered. He kept his eyes closed, for some reason he knew that it hadn't worked, that when he opened them he'd see nothing but the cluster of trees at the edge of the pavement.

“This was so fucking stupid,” he muttered and opened his eyes. The trees were still there, but the shadows seemed to have deepened. It took the rustle of the wind to realize that no that wasn't quite true. The wind tugged at her clothes and her hair and gave her the look of a romance novel heroine. He thought that maybe heroine was a closer comparison. He felt drugged, pulled toward her on feet that couldn't feel the ground beneath them.

“Dean?” She whispered his name, and the word had a kind of reverence in him that sent chills down his spine. It felt like she could strip him bare with a thought.

“Amara.” he said, swallowing the nerves that threatened him. He was a Winchester and nothing scared him, but there was more to her than he could see, she felt vast and he had that feeling he got as a kid looking up into the stars and how much there was above. “We should talk.” he said.

The next second he was in a room, alone with her.

“Where are we?” He asked.

“No where.” she answered, “it's complicated. I thought you wanted to talk.”

“I want Cas.” he said, “Sam said you have him, so lets deal, what do you want in exchange.”

“For the angel?” She asked, then looked at him with her head slightly tilted, “you can't even remember him.”

“Sam says he's our friend.” He answered, “That's enough of a reason for me.”

She looked at him thoughtfully and he waited out the scrutiny, waited for her to tell him what she wanted in exchange.

“You mean it,” she stated at last, “you're willing to come here knowing nothing, not who he is, or what he's done, or why I want him, because Sam says Castiel is your friend. What about the other one?” She asked, “do you want him also, he says he's not the favorite anymore, I'm starting to think he may be right. My brother still hasn't come.”

He was having trouble following the slightly whimsical twist of her thoughts.

Her hand was on his arm and he didn't realize she'd gotten that close to him. “Dean, you are an interesting puzzle.” she whispered, “you're still resisting,” her lips were a heartbeat away from his, he didn't step back, didn't know what to say.

“what is this?” finally jarred past his lips.

“I told you.”

“yeah, we're bound, whatever, what does that mean?”

“I don't know.” she said, “you are meant for me.”

“Says who?” he asked at last, “why me?”

“you had my mark.” she answered, “you freed me.”

“Not on purpose,” Dean said, details didn't matter he'd never intentionally let something like her out. He knew himself and his brother better than that.

“It doesn't matter.” Her hand ran along his jaw line, soft as a lover's caress, “I have seen everything this creation has to offer, and there is so much pain and heartache and evil in it, why are you so sure this world is worth fighting for?”

“If you really understood, you wouldn't ask,” he said at last still feeling the draw toward her, feeling like the words were coming from a distance. Her eyes narrowed in anger, there was a heartbeat when he wasn't sure what she was going to do, if she was going to just tell him no or lash out.

“I told you before we will always help each other.” She said softly, “If you want the angels, I will take you to them.”

Deans stomach twisted when reality shifted. He found himself in a room marked with wardings he didn't recognize. In the comer sat a man, his clothes were scorched and torn blood that almost seemed to glow was pooled around him.

He looked up when he noticed he wasn't alone and smiled slightly, “Dean, I can honestly say you're the last person I expected to see. Where's Sam?”

“Sam's waiting at home,” he said, suddenly uncomfortable, was pretty sure the person he was looking at was the same one from the picture but there was something off about him, he didn't really seem like the type they'd be friends with, there was something cold in his eyes, though Dean figured that could be a result of whatever Amara had been doing to him. “Can you walk? I'm here to get you out of here.”

The angel stared at him for a minute, his mouth parted in surprise, “oh this is good,” He laughed, his head falling back against the wall, the sound was pained, “what year are you from? Do you even know who I am?”

“Cas?” Dean said softly, “I'm sorry, there was a spell or something, I don't remember, but Sam says you're important so I'm here to take you home.”

“I doubt Sam knows you're here.” He grinned again, but the grin faded into a grimace, “I can't wait to see your face when he finds out.”

“God's favorite, and still he doesn't come.” Amara said softly, “but you came.” She looked at Dean softly her eyes taking him in like she was trying to figure him out, “not even knowing who he is, you still came.” Her eyes narrowed, “You tried to trick me, you all tried to trick me, how?” She asked, “we are bonded, it should be deeper than anything how did you do it?”

“I don't know,” Dean answered honestly.

“Even now, you're still resisting,” She studied him closely and Dean felt like the air was sucked out of the room. “How?”

He shrugged, “Please, just let me take my friend home?” He asked.

“Lucifer says he's no longer god's favorite,” she said walking toward Cas light gathered around her hand, “If he won't come for them, why shouldn't I take them apart?”

Cas stepped back and Dean was caught on a word, “wait Lucifer as in _the Devil_ Lucifer?” He asked, looking from Amara to the angel.

“Nice to see you remember me,” Cas said softly, “though got to say, kind of hurts my feelings.” He whispered. “By the way, your rescue mission, kind of sucks.”

“I came for Cas.”

He rolled his eyes, “sorry, can't have him, Not unless Sam's willing to renegotiate” the last came out helpfully.

“You stay the hell away from my brother.” Dean growled.

“You don't know?” Amara asked, “the vessel is containing not one but two angel's. The other is weak, practically human, but the arch angel.” She smiled, “I thought at the very least the sound of his screams would bring my brother. Not even both of them together is enough. Maybe he really has forsaken this world, for your sake, I hope that's not true.”

She grabbed the angel by the collar and shoved him toward Dean, “you think if I want him back I won't be able to find you?” She asked, “take them, wherever you go I will find you. And now, not only are we bound, but your indebted. When I need you, you will answer.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

“Sam!” Dean yelled for his brother as soon as he got back to the bunker, the angel was a lot less chatty when they'd gotten away from Amara, seeming to sag completely into the passenger seat of the car. It wasn't until they made it back to the garage that Dean noticed the blood staining the passenger door and seat. If he was smart he'd throw the damn thing out. Put a fucking bullet it in and call it a day. But at the very least he knew about possession, if there was a way to force the arch angel out he'd find it.

They had to, if he could do this much to make up for what he'd done it'd be enough.

For a fraction of a second when Sam met him at the bottom of the stairs Dean thought he was going to faint. He took a half a step back, then looked at Dean, “You promised.” He said, then his mouth set into a hard line.

“Give me a hand, You wouldn't think an angel would be so fucking heavy.”

Sam rubbed his hand down the front of his pants leg then took a half a step forward. He made an aborted move to reach of the angel.

“Sam, move,” Dean ordered “before I drop him.”

Sam closed his eyes, if possible he'd lost a couple more shades of color. Then he was moving Dean let out a relieved breath when Sam took part of the weight off him, “um, infirmary is probably easiest.” he said and Dean could hear the way he was breathing too hard, borderline hyperventilating. He wondered if it was because he thought Dean didn't know who the angel actually was, or because he'd been doing something stupid like running laps or something. It didn't really matter, their first concern was getting back Cas, If Sam had told him more than that, maybe he wouldn't have gone in quite the way he had, but either way they had the angel, so at least that much was a win.

Dean tried not to think about the blood stain he left behind, both in the car and the splatters down the hallway,he'd have to clean that shit out as soon as he could. They practically dropped the angel on the ancient bed. He was quiet, a hiss of breath and then he didn't move, Dean half wondered if he was going to die, but he knew the damn thing had been bitching just a few minutes before. Sam looked at his hand, and back at the angel, he wiped the weird glowing mix of blood and grace on his shirt, then moved back toward the door, like he was trying to back out of it.

“I'm going to get the first aid kit,” Dean said, pushing past him, needing to get out for a second to clear his head, figure out what the hell he was going to do now, he'd just rescued the fucking devil himself. What was he suppose to do with that knowledge?

Sure the damn thing was possessing one of their friends, but he hadn't known that at the time, and Sam hadn't told him. He cringed at the sight of the blood drenching the seat, told himself it could wait, an wondered exactly how much blood an angel could stand to lose.

He was still in the hall when he heard the voices, he should have kept going, but something in Sam's voice made him stop, he wasn't exactly eavesdropping, they knew he was coming back, but something made him stop, just outside the door.

“He's going to die,” the angel whispered, dean wondered who he was talking about, “We can save him, you're strong enough, with my grace...”

“No,” Sam's voice came out softly, like he wasn't just saying no, like their was complete denial in his voice.

“Come on Sam, it's not like you haven't done it before, it's not like it's going to make that much of a difference in the long run. I mean really, we've already spent lifetimes together, what's a few more days if it means he can live?”

The need to protect his brother came only after the need to understand what was being said, “It's never going to happen,” Sam said softly.

“Even if it means Castiel dies?” There was a cruel edge to the voice, “Come on Sam, you know I'm right. It doesn't have to end this way.”

Dean pushed the door open, tossed the first aid kit toward Sam, “you need to get the hell out of our cas, before I find a way to send your sorry ass back to hell where you belong.”

“Words hurt Dean,” he said, “is that any way to talk to an old friend?”

Maybe if he'd had more time to think on it, he wouldn't have done it, but the impulse to strike out was faster than his fear of the angel. He wasn't sure which was worse, realizing that he'd not only punched an angel, but what was possibly the most violent angel anyone had ever heard of. Before his brain could process it, Sam was pulling him away out the door, and closing it behind them. Saying his name, like a plea. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother, felt the way he was practically shaking.

“It's okay,” He whispered, a million different possibilities running through his head at once. He shied away from most of them focusing instead on calming down his brother.

“it's okay, I've got you Sammy,” he said letting his arms wrap around his brother. “come on,” he urged pulling Sam away from the room, back down the hall. “you gotta tell me what I'm walking into,” he said at last, “I mean I'm trying to understand what the hell is going on, but man I'm lost, I'm so far over my head I'm drowning here.”

He searched his brother's face, looking for some clue to what was going through his head. Sam wasn't looking at him. His eyes on the floor, when he finally looked up Dean was almost floored by the amount of pain in the look.

“I don't want you to know,” he said at last. “I screwed everything up, and I just didn't want to have to disappoint you again.”

“Sam,” he said softly, “you realize the devil himself is down the hall, bleeding to death? And he knows you, you think that anything you can tell me is worse than what I'm already imagining?”

Sam smiled slightly, “You can't imagine anything worse than what's already happened.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

“I'll tell you everything,” Sam promised, “right now, we have to get out of here, hurt or not Lucifer is worse than anything you've ever faced.”

There are nightmare creatures that destroy lives. Dean has known that since he was four years old and carried his brother out of a burning building. He's known it since sitting on the hood of his Dad's car waiting for his mom to come out to them. He's known it since the first kill he made at twelve, he's known it in every way it's imaginable to know it. The world is a dark, broken, terrifying place. It'd be easy to let himself hope that Sam was exaggerating, but he saw the way his brother still looked terrified.

“Do we take any of them?” Dean asked, “can't take out Amara, apparently we can't take out the devil, is there any monsters out there we still gank?”

“This is bigger than that.”

“Monster is a monster Sam.”

“No, sometimes you need a monster to take on a bigger monster.” Sam said, “and it's not okay, and I don't like it, but Amara is going to destroy everything. Lucifer is bad, as bad as you think he is and worse, but he's fought her before, he's beat her before. Dean,” Sam looked down, “Lucifer is the last Archangel. Without God, if we can't find a way for him to beat her, she's going to destroy everything.” “Why?” He asked, the word slipping out of his mouth before he knew it was going to, everything in him practically screamed it, a lost hopelessness that engulfed him was one had hadn't felt in a long time. Like he was waiting for someone to come save them.

It was stupid they were the ones that saved people. They weren't saved. No one was coming to drag them from their nightmares.

“I don't know,” Sam answered, his hand coming up to run though his hair, “I don't know what she wants or what she's after.” He dropped his hand back down and started digging his thumb into the crease of his other hand. Dean's eyes tracked the movement, mostly because it was something different, something new.

“I got to ask,” Dean grabbed the hand that was rubbing and moved it out of the way so he could see Sam's palm, “whats wrong with your hand?”

“What?” Sam looked at him like he'd completely lost track of the conversation, “nothing.” He held it up, and Dean could see the faintest white vee across the middle of it. “That looks like it must have hurt like a son of a bitch.”

Sam nodded, looking at it thoughtfully, “Yeah, I guess it did.” He shrugged, “It was a long time ago.”

“Then why do you keep rubbing at it?” Dean asked. It was stupid,they were literally in the middle of god knew what, the devil bleeding to death in the infirmary and he was giving his brother hell about a long healed scar, but it was the closest thing he could focus on to stop the panic building. It was dumb, but taking care of Sam had always been the thing that kept him moving forward. And yeah, maybe the whole world had gone to hell, but as long as Sam was standing in front of him, that's what he was going to focus on.

“I don't want you to go back in there,” Dean said.

“I don't want you to either,” Sam countered, and yeah that was fair enough.

“Sam...” How did he say _you can't see yourself._ How did he say that the look of terror and panic still hadn't faded from his brothers face and he didn't want him to have to go back in.

“You don't know what he's capable of.” Sam whispered, “Cas is still in there, and he's injured, but that's not going to stop Lucifer from using him against us.”

One heartbeat they were alone the next the angel was standing between them Still bleeding, slow trickling streams of grace and blood. Sam took a step backwards, but the angel moved faster his hand pressed against his forehead and Dean watched in horror as his brother crumpled onto the floor without warning, his eyes open and unseeing.

“Sam?!” Dean fell onto his knees next to him searching for some sign of injury, more than half afrai that Sam was dead. His heart beat was strong and quick, but he didn't move when Dean snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“We should talk Dean.” the angel said, “just me and you,” He tapped the first aid kit, “and this bleeding thing needs to stop. It won't kill me, you aren't that lucky, but this vessel may implode, which is just messy all around, and then there's the problem of poor, defenseless Castiel, he's too weak to find someone else, so if _we_ implode, it will kill him. You don't want that do you?”

It took minutes to stop the slow stream of blood, Dean's eyes kept flickering back to Sam. “Hey, focus on me.” The angel bitched when Dean took too long to check on Sam again. “If you really want to know how little brother is doing I can show you.”

Dean saw the hand coming toward him, but he couldn't get out of the way. Couldn't stop it. It felt like icey fingertips slipping into his skull everywhere the angel touched him. It curled around his mind and the bunker faded out replaced by a ember red glow. 

The absolute first thing Dean noticed was the sound of his brother screaming, it echoed around him coming from everywhere at once. “Sam?!” Dean searched through the smokey haze looking for some sign of his brother. The ground beneath his feet was solid and flat, but full of metal shards that he had to step around carefully.

The angel appeared next to him and smiled, letting out a content sigh, ““It's a little loud in here isn't it? Kind of hard to really have a conversation over all the screaming,” He snapped his fingers and it's nice isn't it? Home sweet home.” Dean felt the words as much as he heard them, they reverberated in him, made his head hurt and his teeth ache.

“Where are we?” Dean asked afraid of the answer, the angel smiled again

“Come on Dean, you're smarter than that, take a wild guess.”

“Hell?” Dean let the word fall between them.

“Close, a construct of a memory of hell at least.” He moved around Dean surveying him while Dean took it all in.

“Where's Sam?” He asked.

“He's here, somewhere,” he shrugged, “We'll get to that.”

He looked around, “it's weird isn't it? All this time, I really thought it was Sam that was the important one, I mean he's my true vessel, but Sam just can't handle that kind of pressure I mean if you didn't notice he's a little cracked.”

Dean's eyes whipped from surveying the scene back to the angel, “what?”

“Oh that's right, you didn't know.” He grinned, “well, see it was this whole big thing. Where demons found him, got him ready, filled him brimming with power and control and sent him after me. Then...well, we had a bit of a falling out, I'm over it though.” He ran his hand down Dean's back, “So Sam looks like he's holding it together okay doesn't it? If he sometimes isn't sure what's real or not that's not that's not that big a deal right? And if he sometimes get a little reckless and suicidal, well he did almost destroy the world once. If you think about it, he just doesn't have what it takes to do the job anymore, he can't make a move without getting the okay from big brother. I'm not going to lie, the point it took me centuries to break your brother to, you've manage it in a decade, you made him meek and submissive, and obedient," he shook his head, "I'm proud of you Dean, really, that's some impressive work.” He stepped away from Dean. “Come on, you want to see your brother, I'll take you to him. You're not going to like what you find though.”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

“You know what fascinates me about humans?” The angel whispered, “you have so much potential for destruction. I mean every Demon, and almost every monster originated as human. That darkness in you isn't increased or even changed, it's just unleashed.” Dean watched the slow way that he moved, searching for some sign the angel was as injured as he had appeared to be moments earlier. “You think demons are bad? Look at what's going on out there, and I'm not talking about Amara.” He sighed, “there are high school foot ball players gang raping thirteen year old girls. Children who find every excuse they can to avoid going to Daddy's because he won't quit touching them.”

“Civilians being penetrated by anything that will fit in the name of warfare, of breaking the enemy's spirit.” He grinned, “and god the things you do to each other in the name of love?” His smile was wider, “the number of people who beat the hell out of the spouses, and partners, who call their jealousy love? The number of people who wholeheartedly agree that the best way to solve conflicts with people that are different than them is a nuclear bomb.” He shivered, “I mean really, You think I'm bad, take a look at yourself. You fight the monsters, you fight the demons and the ghosts and the vampires, tell me Dean, when was the last time you took out a rapist? When was the last time you took out one of the men who make girls afraid to leave the house alone? When was the last time you took out a murderer? And not just one that was a threat to your precious Sammy?” Dean followed through the twisting labyrinth that was part shadow and part grotesque art work. “I have to say, even I don't have the imagination of some of you, but you know, what I lack in imagination, I learned through trail and error. And Sam...well Sam's a good guinea pig. He's very responsive. I mean pain, he can bear, insults, embarrassment, it all just kind of rolls off him. Not saying I didn't find every way to push past his limits and get that really visceral screaming.” He snapped his fingers and Dean flinched when the world around him was filled with exactly the sound the angel was referring to. Another snap and silence fell again, doing nothing for the increased panic Dean was already feeling, “but with Sam, it's all about the helplessness, I mean hold him down and he fights so fucking hard, but the second, the second that something slips inside him,” he shrugged, “everyone has a breaking point, as delicious as Sam's screams are, he truly breaks when he's on his knees.”

The world shimmered and shifted around them. The fire was replaced with something a little more subdued, the gray stone walls that couldn't be real. Dean saw his brother chained to the middle of the floor a iron loop of chain that was too short to let him even move.

“Sam,” The angel sang his name. Dean heard the soft whimper that slipped past his brother's lips. “Come on Sammy,” He whispered, “got a visitor, someone really wants to see what a pretty bitch you make.”

Dean pushed past the angel, grabbing Sam's arm as he lowered himself down into his line of sight, “I'm here, I'm going to get you out of this okay?”

Sam's eyes were squeezed closed, his lips whispered over and over something that Dean didn't quite catch.

“Come on Dean, you don't think that's going to work? I already told you, you're seeing a memory, this show already played out, want to know how it ends?” He was kneeling next to Dean his hand slipping across t he exposed skin of Sam's back. Sam shuddered at the touch falling momentarily quiet.

Dean shoved him, hard as he could instead of making the angel budge he stood up, and wandered away from them. Dean turned back to the chains holding his brother trying to find where they were connected, trying to figure out how to remove them. Sam's mouth fell open and his breath hissed between his teeth.

“Sam?” Dean whispered his name, already knowing he wasn't going to get a response the words started up again, soft and low and repetitive. It wasn't English, but it was familiar. Spanish maybe, he didn't think it was french. But he couldn't be sure.

“Stop this!” Dean screamed, clamoring to his feet, “just please let him go?”

“No.” The angel said tapping his finger against his bottom lip, “see, Sam's mine, Sam's been mine for a long time, but you, you just can't leave well enough alone. The world would be better off if you could.”

“I don't give a damn about the world!” Dean screamed, the words echoed back at him from every direction.

“You want your brother?” The angel whispered, “you really want him don't you? Now that you've had a taste, it's all you can think about. What it'd be like just to sink into the tight hot body, bury all those fears you have of him leaving you deep down. Come on Dean, it'd be easy, he wouldn't know the difference, you or me, what difference does it make, the nightmares still the same.”

“Your sick.” Dean argued.

“I never denied it,' he whispered, “but you... The world is going to burn, because you're too much of a coward to face up to what you really want. You never wanted Sam with you because he's your brother, if you wanted what's best for Sam you would have left him at school where he was safe.”

“I needed his help.”

“You jumped on the first excuse you found that he would buy.” He argued, “and Sam knew what you were doing, everyone knew. The demons knew it, you damn right they knew, you opened the door, and led them straight to your brother, and his pretty girlfriend paid the price for it.” He laughed, “and it's been a decade, and you still haven't closed the deal.”

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch,” Deans voice was choked off, he suddenly felt like he couldn't breath, his lungs quickly started burning from the lack of air, and still the angel paced around them. Dean noticed the damage that had been so obvious when he'd first taken him from Amara had faded. When the angel let him go, he fought to catch his breath, the words filtered through, “no one cares Dean. I just want you to accept what we all already know, You and Sam, you're warped, twisted up in each other in ways that aren't natural, and aren't healthy, and the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

“That's not true,” Dean said, “I love my brother, but not like that.”

“Really, so you wouldn't sell your soul to save him if Sam died? Or you wouldn't bargain with Death to make sure that Sam's okay to hunt when he should be lying comatose somewhere? Or you wouldn't take a swing at Death himself to keep Sam alive? You're not soulmates?”

Dean didn't have an answer, the way that it sounded couldn't be the way that it happened, he wished he could remember, wished he could say definitively that no, that wasn't the way that it went down. But he didn't know. He looked back to is brother, “please, just let him go.”

“Please?” The smile was back, “did I hear that right? Did you just try asking nicely?' He moved toward Sam his fingertip skimming down his shoulders, “Hear that Baby? Big brother is begging so nicely for you, I think he missed the part where this is a memory.” He turned back to Dean, “You can't save him from this, it already happened, over, and over, and over. Your brother has spent more time on his knees then you've spent alive.”

“No,” Dean whispered, the word pushed past lips that had gone numb, “no,” He whispered, “Sammy...”

“There it is, now you're finally getting the picture.” He smiled, “Sam's a little stubborn, but you get to the point he can't take any more pain, and he's almost willing. Just hangs his pretty head and takes whatever I want to give him.”

Dean felt like he was going to throw up, he had thought they'd been okay, had thought Sam was okay, he should have told him, shouldn't have just hit the high points and pretended their lives had been smooth sailing. Should have told him about the angel at least.

“There it is,” The angel whispered Dean felt the ice in his breath, “there's that despair. It's a good look on you Dean. I mean when Sam breaks he breaks so pretty its like art, it takes doing exactly the right things, in exactly the right ways, but you, I don't need to break you Dean, you'll do that to yourself, just knowing you couldn't save him. That you let it happen. You weren't strong enough to save your brother.”

“This is a memory?” Dean asked, the words a consolation, sometimes memories could lie.

“Yeah, one of my favorite.”

“Sam's not here?”

“Not at the minute, but he was.” Lucifer whispered, “right now, he's reliving his own worst nightmares, his own personal hell, but don't worry, you're getting some playing time there also.” He grabbed the back of Dean's neck, face a breath away too blue eyes staring into him like he could see everything Dean had ever thought. “I think you kissing him, is probably right up with this on the memories Sammy's holding at bay. Imagine if I twisted it just a little for him, let him think it was you that held him down and fucked the fight out of him? Think he'd survive that Dean? Think he'll still love you when he thinks you raped him? It's a tough call, I mean he _really_ loves you Dean. You know that? I think it might just be the thing that I was looking for, the one he won't recover from. If you're the one that violated him, think he could forgive you for that, that he could look at you without feeling anything but disgust, and fear, and a little nauseous.” He ran his thumb over Dean's bottom lip, and for a weird heart beat Dean wondered if he was about to kiss him, “why don't you ask Sam about the it, see if he can look you in the eye and believe you when you tell him you'd never do something like that to him, Why don't we see if he still loves you when I'm done with him.”

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Dean found himself on the floor, Sam was where he had been before the vision or whatever it was that Lucifer had caught Dean in. His body was as still as death and for a terrifying heartbeat Dean was afraid that after everything this was the moment he failed.

“Come on Sammy,” Dean whispered checking his brother for a pulse, some sign of life, “you gotta wake up for me okay.”

Silent tears gathered on his brother's lashes, but otherwise his face was impassive. Dean wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse, he was alive, somewhat at least.

“I've got to say, This may be some of my best work.” Lucifer said from the other side of Dean, “I mean, I thought that I had perfected it down to an art form, but this,” he smiled maniacally, “this is something that should be immortalized, poetry, art, one of those little stick figure drawings that get kids sent to the special therapists.”

Dean tore his eyes away from his brother to the angel. Where he'd been torn and bloody from his encounter with Amara he was clean and healed, and smiling smugly. “How....” he stumbled over the words, “you were barely standing.”

The smile faded to a soft almost fond smirk, “The thing about souls that people forget is they are powerful, why do you think heaven collects them? Why do you think demons make deals? It's not the people that matter, it's the power. If the average schmuck is a Duracell, Sam's a nuclear reactor. Just skimmed a little of that power away, and voila.” He threw his arms wide, “pretty good huh?”

Dean turned back to his brother, and picked him up off the floor, “fix him.” he growled, “or so help me god,”

“you'll what Dean?” he stepped forward, “You need me, you can't hurt me, you can't kill me, you can't beat her without me. So what will you and Daddy do? He doesn't care about you Dean, he doesn't care about any of us. The world is burning out there, and where is he?”

Dean couldn't really argue the point, hell for the most part he agreed with it, but that wasn't the fucking point. “Fix him or I will kill you anyways and the world can burn.”

“Careful who you threaten Dean, if I didn't still need you that would have been the last thing you ever said.” He shrugged, “besides, I can't fix him, give it a few days, he'll recharge what I took or he won't.”

Dean needed space to think, needed to get Sam somewhere other than the hallway, and needed to figure out what his next move was. Mostly he just wanted the angel gone, he'd give anything to never see his stupid face with that stupid smirk again.

“Let me talk to Cas.” He said softly, “just let me know that he's alright.”

“You don't even remember him.”

“He's family,” Dean said, “memory doesn't change that.”

“no,” he said, “you're just going to have to take my word for it, Cas can't come out to play right now, and considering you trying to _talk_ to Cas is what lead the bitch to me in the first place, I really don't think you should be making demands right now, all my good intentions may not be enough to stop me from breaking your pretty, fragile little neck.”

Dean wasn't sure what to expect from him but the way he was staring, was definitely not going to lead to anything good. “Speaking of necks, There's a witch I need to have a little heart to heart with, don't wait up.” One moment he was there, and the next he was gone, Dean could feel the air displaced by his departure. It was almost enough to knock him off his feet with how unbalanced he already was.

He carried Sam to his room on numb legs. To stop the endless stare his brother was giving him he pushed his eyes closed, the action made Dean feel weighted.

He didn't know what he was suppose to do know, the angel was gone, Sam was apparently at least down for a day or two, and the things he'd been told, he didn't know how much truth there was to them and Sam...what would Sam even have to say to him when he woke up? He didn't know how much of what he had seen had been real, and how much had been the angel screwing with him. He needed answers, part of him thought he should probably get Sam to a hospital, but he was still holding out hope, he'd said he should wake up, with as much as the angel had said to hurt him, for some reason that part rang truest, he really seemed to think Sam would at least wake up. He seemed almost gleeful for what would happen when he did. Somehow Dean didn't think their meeting was the last. He dreaded seeing Lucifer again, but knew it was likely he would be seeing him sooner rather than later. Next time though, when he showed up Dean would be ready. Sam wasn't the only one in the family that knew how to look shit up, and really of all the monsters he'd ever faced what could be easier to find then the single most notorious angel in existence?

First though he had to make sure that Sam was okay, that he was as comfortable as he could be given the circumstances. Dean had already seen that his brother's bed was too small for him, a hard mattress on a too short frame. Instead Dean carried Sam to his own bedroom and let him down easy on the giving foam mattress. It wasn't particularly cold but he pulled a light blanket over him anyways, just because it made it feel a little different somehow, more like he was just putting him to bed after too many shots or something, he only let himself buy into the illusion long enough to get the hell out of the room.

In the hallway again, Dean let himself breath, realized he hadn't exactly been holding his breath, but each one he took was shallow, quiet and held for too long, his heart was pounding in objection by the time he got out of the room, he let himself slide down the wall and sit on the cool tile floor. His head falling into his hands. He had somehow managed to screw it up even worse.

Dean didn't know how long he stayed there on the floor. It could have been minutes or hours for all he knew, but eventually he had to move, had to do something other than wallow in it. An idea was forming, at least half way to something doable before he was even sure it was an idea.

Lucifer wasn't the only angel in existence. Hell he wasn't even the only archangel. “I'm going to fix this,” He promised the silent door. “Just hang on.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

Finding what he was looking for was easy, his brother had a pretty decent index system set up. It wasn't surprising but Dean imagined it'd been pretty time consuming to get a place this big organized. The circle he needed to cast was hardest. He found himself wishing he could ask Sam to help, or hell just let his brother do it, but then if Sam could, Dean wouldn't be there himself, kneeling in the back of a gutted barn with a bowl of things he couldn't normally find on a grocery store shelf, a little incantation later and he dropped a match into the bowl.

The hopeful fear that whatever was to come couldn't be worse than what he'd already had to contend with, held him still while he waited for the summoning to work it's magic. For the angels to be forced to come to him.

The contents flared and burned to ashes.

The smoke curled out of the bowl and filled the space with the mix of pleasant floral and unpleasant charred spices. There was no crack of thunder. There was no swish of wings, nothing but silence as the flash fire burned away and the smoke dispersed.

He waited, what else was there to do? The smoke had long since cleared before he drug himself away. Going home after a burned run was hard to do. Going home without knowing what he'd find when he got there made it even harder. He sat in the car for a little while. Listening to the purr of the engine, He ran his hand over the dash.

“I don't know what to do baby,” he whispered to the silence, his eyes lingered on the passenger seat, the place where Sam was suppose to be and wasn't. He'd thought the fact they were still together meant he'd gotten it right. Now he couldn't help wondering if it was possible for it to go any more wrong.

He still had the car, still had some semblance of his brother waiting inside, waiting on him to make this right. He couldn't let him down, he'd rather die.

He went first to check on his brother, Saw that at some point he had shifted rolling to face where Dean should have been. Instead of out chasing the faintest hope he could get some help.

The kitchen was a solace to him, where nothing else had been. The smell of coffee woke him up when he hadn't even realized he'd been tired.

He was half way through filling a chipped white cup when he heard a throat clear behind him. He swung around reaching for a weapon he hadn't thought to bring with him.

He said, ““Really? That's the reaction, not 'oh my god, I can't believe you're alive?' not 'great camera work on the Casa Erotica?' nothing? Just reach for your gun, like that could do anything to me anyways, come on Dean, is this really how you greet an old friend. Wow, you're jumpy,” ”

“Sorry, minor case of 'I don't remember shit.'”

“well, apparently it's terminal.” He said, “really a summoning? I mean paint a target on your forehead and call it good.”

“I'm enjoying the chat, really, but if you don't tell me who the hell you are in the next five seconds things are going to get complicated.”

“complicated?” He smiled, the look almost unreadable, something made dean realize he was on even more shaky ground then he'd originally thought, “I was relaxing in the Bahamas, when your fan club let the crazy auntie out of her room, and on top of that you idiots let Lucifer out. _Again.”_

“Shit happens,” Dean said, “so you're another angel.”

“Not recently,”

“so yes then,” the itch for a weapon got worse, “what do you want?” He asked knowing there wasn't going to be a good deal to be made, looking at what had happened with the other one, looking at what had happened with Amara, he wasn't sure why but there was something about this one that seemed at least less bad than the other two. Like he might punch you in the face, but at least he'd think you deserve it first.

“I want the world to keep on spinning. I mean I'm practically an advocate for world peace.” He muttered, “if you would stop unleashing every psychotic member of my family on the planet it'd be smooth sailing.”

“Ah, come on little brother, I'm not that bad,” one second they were alone the next Lucifer was standing in the doorway. Dean flinched at the sound of his voice and wondered again why he hadn't brought his fucking gun to the kitchen. It might not hurt the angel, but he really wanted to at least shoot him, just once on fucking principle.

Dean felt the air in the room thicken with the emotional charge, he wondered if the building was even capable of handling the sheer amount of raw power of two arch angel's in the same room. Gabriel was looking past Lucifer to the second figure in the hall. He half expected to see Sam there, weapon poised and eyes a sleepy glaze, instead there was a kid standing there, young. He might be twenty, he might be sixteen it was kind of hard to tell. He walked into the room like he owned it. Dean felt a tick of familiarity like he'd ran into him somewhere. It was the first new person he'd felt that with and it was unsettling.

“Dean,” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it felt like a scream. The room was full of static waiting for an explosion. It was like there was two layers, what he was saying and something else, some thrum of power that expanded outward.

It was Gabriel that pulled Dean's attention from him, Gabriel who had muttered something that sounded like a curse and moved in the blink of an eye to stand behind Dean crowding into his space and making him feel claustrophobic. Dean felt something press against his neck, “sorry, Dean, but you're the only leverage I have here,” the angel whispered, then his voice rose, “Micheal, long time no see.”

The eyes shifted from Dean behind him and the raw, almost insanity in the look made him want to hide, want to slid beneath the counter and wait for the blast wave to pass. Either taking him with it, or leaving him in the rubble left behind. “Gabriel,” he said, a smile twisting up the corner of his mouth, “thought you were dead.”

“That was the idea. What can I say, it's hard to get rid of me.”

“How did you do it?” Lucifer asked, the only one to voice the question, “I stabbed you myself, saw the grace burn out of you, saw your wings scorched into the floor. How are you here?”

There was a shrug, “guess dad's got a new favorite.” he said but Dean felt the tremble in his grip and it worried him more than anything. The archangel was terrified, holding Dean's life in front of him like he was a bargaining chip, and shaking like he was facing his own execution.

Dean was running through his best way to get out, three arch angels in a pissing contest was not something he wanted to be in the middle of. Literally or metaphorically. He swallowed, pushed down the flight instinct that was pushing him to try to break the guys grip and run like hell for Sam. “Guys, we're all here for the same reason, the entire universe is about to burn want to risk it all for a grudge match now?”

Lucifer shrugged, the over head lights popped in a shower of sparks leaving only a dim glow in the room, the blade at Dean's throat moved a fraction of an inch away before pressing hard against it again. From down the hall Dean heard his brother scream, the sound came out pained and terrified and died to complete silence as suddenly as he started.

“Your handiwork?” Gabriel asked.

“You see where I am,” Lucifer grinned, “but maybe, maybe not, if it was, I still manage to impress myself. I give it about a 7 on what he's capable of, but sheer unexpectedness makes it at least an 8 ½ maybe a 9.”

“Whats a 10?” Gabriel asked like it wasn't Dean's brother he was talking about.

“The time he bit through his tongue was pretty high up there,” He smiled, looked to Dean, “sorry, you just would have had to been there to really appreciate it.”

“You Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, jerking trying to free himself from Gabriel's steel grip, “I'm going to fucking rip your head off,”

“Easy killer,” Gabriel whispered, “I'm sure he's fine.”

Dean was pretty sure he wasn't, he needed to go, needed to check on his brother, not being able to move was killing him. It felt like they were at an impasse, he didn't know where they stood, didn't know what any of them wanted, there were three arch angels and a wicked looking spike between him and his brother. It was like waiting for the world to implode around him.

Lucifer moved lightening quick, one second he was across the room, the next Dean was caught between the two, electricity sizzled along his skin, making the hair on his arms prickle, and goosebumps ripple to the surface. “You're not making demands Dean, not this time, you are going to keep your mouth shut while the grown ups talk. When we're done, my brother is going to ask you one, easy little question, and all you have to do is say yes. Then this will all be over, and we'll find Sam, and fix his head just enough he can do the same, and then my family will go save the world, while yours,” he shrugged, “well, you'll find out soon enough.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

If the kitchen had felt too small before, after the angel's explained their plan dean felt like he was watching the walls shrinking toward him. Dean had seen a lot in his life and heard a lot, but he'd never heard of anyone willingly choosing to let something possess them.

“You want me to just let you take over my life?” He asked, “i can't do that.”

“I want you to help us save the world,” the angel whispered, “live up to your potential. You're more than just a human, you're the keystone in this and other apocalypses, you've done it time and time again.”

Dean shook his head, “no. I can't, I can't just leave Sam alone to go play superhero with some angels, especially not when one of them is the same psychotic angel that did god knows what to him to begin with.”

“Oh, you don't have to worry about that,” Lucifer smiled, “Sam's coming with us.”

“Stay the hell away from him.” Dean wasn't struggling to get to him anymore, still trying to work his way through the story that had been laid out for him. So different than the one he was familiar with.

“Well, now you've convinced me.” The angel laughed, “learn a new song Dean, that one's getting old.”

“You're getting old.” Dean muttered, and for a half a heart beat he was pretty sure he was about to die. But there was the smirk again.

“You hurt me with that razor tongue,” his laugh was manic, Dean looked to Micheal, in part to see what he was doing, but mostly because he'd been almost silent the entire time, there was power leaking off him in waves, Dean could feel it buffering against his skin slipping through the space around him, so close dean couldn't even feel the air in the bunker. He wondered how it was possible he wasn't burning out, how the boy he was wearing wasn't falling apart trying to contain him.

It almost felt like a caress, if you were use to getting caressed by pure electricity.

Gabriel snapped, “did you forget how to control your grace or something, stop.”

The feeling retreated, and Dean felt sick from it, not sure if it was the sudden stop, or the thought it had been intentional.

“Great, just what would make this day better, getting groped by a angel.”

“No one groped you Dean.” he said, “just getting a feel for you. Interesting spell work. And your ribs are practically a work of art.”

“My ribs?” Dean asked brow arching “the only way ribs are art is when they're smothered in barbecue sauce.”

“That can be arranged.” Lucifer offered. His tongue slipping out to thoughtfully lick at his lips like he was imagining the taste. “Maybe when this is over, we'll have a really good barbecue.”

“Lucifer,” Micheal sighed exasperated, but too tired to fight it, “there's protections carved into your bones Dean. Complex ones, designed to hide you from me.” he moved looking not at dean but at the air around him, “the other spells are new, layered and complicated, you cast this?” He asked at last.

“I don't remember, but we assumed that I must have.”

“The signature is old.” he said, “like the spell has been layered not over a few months, but over years, someone has been building this spell up, layer by layer.” He tilted his head, “someone is protecting you.”

“Castiel did the carving on his ribs,” Lucifer said, “he doesn't know about the other spells.”

“But he was here when they were being done? How could he have missed them?” Micheal ran his fingers along the space just an inch outside of Dean's arm, he felt the touch as clearly as if it were on his own skin.”

“So much has touched you since we last spoke, curses, and claims, and spells.” He met Deans eyes, “you're barely even human anymore, a patchwork of magic and martyrdom.”

“That's where you're wrong,” Dean said, “completely human.”

“you were a demon.” He said, “and a dog?” He shook his head, “you're twisted Dean. Tainted beyond recognition, but not beyond use. I can scrub all that magic clean, but it will hurt, and it won't be easy.” The gleeful look in his eyes said he wanted Dean to agree to it, to accept the offer and let Micheal hurt him.

“I think I'll pass.” He said, knowing he was probably giving up the best bet he had to get back to the age he was suppose to be. He didn't trust them, none of them.

“Dean, go check on Sam.” Gabriel said, shoving him toward the door.

“But – ”

“Go.” He ordered. Dean went. Footsteps falling heavy, he wasn't sure what he'd find when he got there, wasn't sure they wouldn't try to kill each other while he was gone, but he was glad to be offered the momentary escape. His hand on the door brought a new wave of fear, what would he find on the other side? Would he be awake or unconscious? Did the angel carry through on the threat to make Sam hate him? Would he even listen if Dean told him it wasn't true and he'd never hurt Sam? He pushed the door open, breath held silent, his eyes scanned the room for his brother?

“Sammy?” He called his name quietly, just above a whisper, “you alive in there?”

 


	19. Chapter 19

The room appeared empty, Dean imagined Sam had taken advantage of the angels as a distraction and ran. It wasn't like Dean could blame him if he wanted to get as far from all of them as possible. Between noticing Sam wasn't on the bed and being jerked into the room and slammed against the wall took all of two seconds. The air rushed out of Dean in a harsh rush.

There was a feral sounding growl from his brother and Dean rolled, trying to break his grip. Sam slipped up, somehow losing control of him and Dean took advantage sweeping the legs out from under him and following him down, it was familiar, it was like sparring, only the way Sam scrambled back to his feet and a few steps away before launching himself at Dean again, was nothing like what he was expecting. There was no give in his brother and Dean found himself on defense, dodging hits that were meant to do damage.

It was so different then the last time, when Dean had showed up to steal him from his perfectly normal boring life, that he could hardly believe it was Sam. Sam knocked him down and Dean felt a hard sting in his upper arm that quickly turned to pain. Sam pined him down not just with his weight but with a knife that went through the meat of Dean's arm into the floor beneath him. It was nauseating to feel the way the blade forced it's way beneath his skin, and he couldn't help the scream that it tore out of him. Sam flinched away from the sound, but his grip held, steel fingers dug into Dean's neck cutting off the circulation, he felt the gray of unconsciousness swimming and fought to stay above it.

“Sammy,” Dean gasped trying to use his one free hand to pry off his grip, “it's me, Sam” he said managing to choke the words out, “I'm right here, you gotta let me go.”

Sam leaned closer, his hair falling into Deans face, for a half a second Dean wondered if this was the moment the payback came, if Sam was going to kiss him or kill him or both.

Sam's eyes were fever bright and there was sweat making his skin oil slick, his fingers gripped fractionally tighter and Dean's vision swam like water. “No,” Sam whispered in his ear, his voice broken like he'd forgotten how to use it.

Dean was jerked up off the floor and slammed against the wall. For a second he finally got it. Why Sam was the scariest fucking thing he'd ever face. In the moment when Sam ripped the knife from his arm and pushed it against his throat, Dean was positive he'd rather face a pissed off ghost any day of the week. Give him a werewolf or something any day of the week, because Sam wasn't just going to kill him. He was going to destroy him.

The knife pressed just hard enough to draw blood. His mouth twisted into a snarl the look was the closet thing to pure hatred he'd ever seen on his brother's face. Dean closed his eyes, “go ahead.” He tensed for the bite of the blade, expected it to come quick and hard the way Sam did everything else.

“I don't know what he put in your memories, but if you think that I could ever hurt you intentionally, go ahead.” He swallowed, his eyes opening to try to read the look on his brother's face. “Do it Sam,” he yelled, “or talk to me, let me help you figure out what's real.”

He grabbed his injured arm to try to stop the blood flowing from the cut, it felt like blood was pouring down his arm, but it would have to wait until he dealt with Sam.

“No.” Sam said again, “I can't trust you.” He shook his head, “you –“ Sam stopped talking, the anger haze came back over his face, and he pushed the knife back against Dean's throat harder. “Tell me why,” he demanded.

“Why what?” Dean asked, “there's a lot of things that could mean.”

Dean could have kicked himself for not seeing it coming when Sam punched him. The only thing that saved him from concussion was how short a distance Sam had to throw it. It didn't mean it didn't fucking hurt.

Dean felt Sam pull away just a single step, but the rage was gone, his breath was coming out in hard controlled measures, and his fist was still clenched tightly at his side, but he was looking at Dean rather than through him at least, the knife in his other hand he looked down at then back up at Dean, “You're not real,” he whispered.

“I am,” Dean said, “I'm real, and I'm here, and I'm going to make that son of a bitch fix this, but you gotta believe me Sammy, you gotta trust me.”

“I can't.” Sam said but he backed up and sat down roughly at the edge of Dean's bed. The knife still held in front of him like the blade held answers to the question he had.

Dean relaxed fractionally, Sam looked worn out, like that had taken all the fight out of him. Dean needed to cross the distance needed to take care of his brother and make sure he knew that he was okay, that he knew whatever Lucifer had filled his head with wasn't real.

He took a step and before the way Sam twisted toward him made any sense he heard the knife bury in the door two inches to the side of his ear.

“What the hell!?” Dean couldn't help but yelping when he realized how close his brother got to burying that knife between his eyes.

“You touch me, and I'll kill you.” Sam said softly, looking at the floor rather than Dean, “talk.” he ordered, and as much as Dean wanted to argue that Sam didn't give the orders, he didn't think it was the time, he opened his mouth and realized he had no idea where to start. The throbbing ache where Sam had cut him was escalating to the point of making it hard for him to even think clearly.

“I love you Sam, you know that right?”

Sam looked at him then, disbelief and then a spark of anger warring on his face, he was still listening though so maybe it wasn't too late, maybe he wouldn't completely lose his brother over this.

He swallowed, and fought for the words to make this okay, to make Sam understand what had happened, whatever was going on in his head wasn't real. Not the way that Dean was real and in front of him, and begging him to not believe the illusions.

“Do you remember me bringing Lucifer back from Amara?” He asked, at last.

Sam nodded slowly.

“Did you hate me then?”

There was confusion on his brother's face, “I don't know.” Sam said, “It's fuzzy.”

“Sam, it was less than a day ago, think.” It came out harsh and when he saw Sam flinch he regretted it, “okay, I'm sorry, just,” he stopped, attention caught by the way Sam's fingernails were digging into his palm, “remember, you told me you do that when you're not sure what's real? That was just before Lucifer touched you. I don't know what he put in your head exactly, but he told me,” Dean swallowed even the thought was going to make him sick, “He asked if I thought you'd still love me if you believed I'd -d” he couldn't even fucking say it, “I didn't, Sammy, I swear it's just him trying to hurt you more, trying to make you hate me.”

Sam didn't answer for a while. When he looked back up at Dean his eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“Please Sam, just tell me how I can help you.”

Dean didn't think anything could be worse than the silence between them. He was wrong. Sam walked away from him and pulled the knife from where it'd been buried in the wall. He held it out, holding it by the blade, “use it.” He said softly, “It kills demons to, it should do the job.”

Dean took the handle, “Sam no, come on man.”

Sam stepped closer to him, his hand covering Dean's own like he didn't notice the blood slick on Dean's hand. Sam forced his grip to tighten on the handle where Dean had been holding it with lax fingers before, “It's easy, just take one little shove, is all it'll take.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

Dean looked between the knife in his hand and Sam's face. His eyes were closed like he couldn't stand to watch Dean take the final swing. He reached out and grabbed Sam's face forcing him to turn toward him, “Is this really what you want Sam?”

There was a slight nod from his brother but his eyes stayed closed. Dean took a steadying breath, and let his hand wander farther back wrapping his fingers around the back of Sam's neck. He felt the way Sam tensed, and then Dean moved. Throwing the knife to the ground at the same time he jerked Sam toward him, knocking him off balance in one easy movement and pinning him to the floor. It was a take down to be proud of if they'd been sparring.

Sam went still and silent beneath him, his breath coming out too quickly. His eyes wide, and his hands clawed into Dean's shirt. But he didn't make a sound. Dean had seen people scared in his life. Had seen people have all kinds of reactions to the horrors left in the wake of the monsters he'd faced. Sam went beyond any of them. It wasn't just fear on his brother's face it was terror. Beyond mindless to the point of petrifying. Dean ran through his memories searching for any time that he'd ever seen Sam freeze from fear and he couldn't think of any of them.

“It's okay,” He whispered, “I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I'm not going to let you do something stupid Sam, I couldn't live without you, you've got to get that through your head, I'm right here, you're safe. Just breath for me.”

“You should probably get off of him.” The angel Lucifer had called Gabriel said from where he was suddenly leaning against the wall, “I don't think you're helping.”

“Screw you,” Dean said, “Either help me or get the hell out of here.”

“Why do you think I'm here? For the company?” Dean was shoved by unseen hands away from Sam.

He was forced to watch when the angel knelt next to his brother, a blue glow immediate from his eyes as his hands roamed over Sam's face. He let out a soft sound, and pressed two fingers against Sam's forehead, Dean saw Sam fighting it, he blinked a couple times then his eyes drifted closed and stayed there.

“What did you do to him?” Dean demanded.

“Relax, he's just sleeping.”

“You fucking winged squad need to stop knocking out my brother.”

“and you need to stop picking fights with people that can kill you with a thought.” He smiled, “hell Dean I've killed you more than a few times, and I'll do it again if I have to. This is bigger than us, bigger than their fight, and you and your brother's tendency to self sacrifice for each other. The entirety of existence is hanging in the balance, and you two may have a part to play in it.”

“As what, Vessel's? We're suppose to just let them.”

“Do what they're suppose to do? Yeah, you damn right, and you pray you live through it, but you might not, and if not, well then that's the cost for saving the world.”

Sam's voice broke through before Dean could reply, echoing through the bunker. Dean at first thought he was yelling, but the sounds meant nothing to him, random strings of constinants. The sound wasn't just coming from his brother, it was reverberating through the walls. Echoing the halls and filling Dean's head drowning out his own thoughts.

“Micma aoian o enai,” Dean felt the power holding him drop immediately. Gabriel's mouth fell open and he turned back to sam, looking at him with a mix of awe and horror. Sam repeated the phrase.

The third time he said it his eyes opened.

Throughout his life, Dean could remember once seeing a woman who's eye had been put out by an accident. White scar tissue had replaced her iris. For a second Dean remembered her face, looking at his brother. His eyes weren't scar tissue white, they were something else. Light emanated from them, in slow pulses. And the words repeated again.

This time though, it changed. “micma aoian o enai, aldon Micheal, Lucifer, Gabriel, Castiel, esiasch Dean, Sam, Adam. Micma aoian o enai aldon niis 38 58 17 95 27 14.”

“What the hell?” Dean asked.

“Enochian.” Gabriel answered, his eyes not leaving Sam, when the words started again,

“Micma aoian o enai” Gabriel translated, “behold the face of god.”

“aldon” Sam said, “gather” Gabriel echoed, “the angels,” he explained unnecessarily, “esiasch means brothers, you three obviously,” Gabriel skipped the part that repeated. When Sam said, “aldon niis”

Gabriel looked at dean, looking almost as shocked as Dean felt, “gather here.”

“It's coordinates.” Dean said already having a good idea at least generally where they were being sent, “about 200 miles east from here, give or take.”

There was ten seconds of shocked silence, Dean looked between the angel and his brother, trying to comprehend what just happened, the angel looked at Sam not like he was another broken human but like he was a time bomb about to explode. “We should go,” Gabriel said.

Dean's ears popped at the air displacement when the two other angel's reappeared standing on either side of Sam. The words came again repeating the same message as before once then it changed completely.

“Eol nanaeel enila mai faonts amma ors. fisis tilb”

Gabriel flinched, “it's not an exact translation, angel's speak a slightly different dialect, but basically, it's a kill order,” he translated, “I made you in power, of blood, creatures of light, cursed with darkness. Execute her.”

Sam's voice came out in a whisper, “Gohoiad niis”

“Saith the lord, come.”

“Yeah that's not creepy.” Dean said. Sam's weird white eyes closed again and his breath came soft and shallow, the breaths of someone deeply asleep not channeling the divine.

“Is he okay?” Dean demanded.

“He's been touched by God,” Gabriel said, Dean had no doubts about his sincerity when he shrugged helplessly, “I don't know.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

Sam had fallen quiet. Dean wasn't sure he was capable of being more worried. He almost wished he could go back to only being worried about undoing the spell or whatever had stripped the years from him.

It wasn't just Sam, though that alone would have had him freaked out. It was all of it, it was too much at once, too much to take in.

Micheal spoke first his voice came out firm, but dean couldn't help but think if angel's cried he would be on the verge of tears, “Father,” His stopped and closed his eyes, “it's time to go.”

“No.” Lucifer said grabbing his wrist, “You don't have to come running just because he calls, we've waited lifetimes, he can wait a little longer.”

“You can't mean that,” he said, “you won't get what you want by picking a fight.”

“I want what should have already been mine.” He said, “I'm not picking a fight. I'm saying he has no respect for us, or anything he's made for that matter, so why should we run to him when he calls? Why should we subjugate ourselves to the egomaniac that left us in hell rather than admitting he was wrong.”

Dean had the surreal feeling that he was falling down a rabbit hole he'd never craw back out of.

“He's still our father,” Gabriel said from where he was standing, “and we need him if we're going to win this.”

“We needed him a long time before now, where was he?” He said, “where was he when the fleas he infested the planet with started destroying it? Where was he when my brothers and sister's decided to cram me in a box for an eternity of fire and pain? Where was he when they corrupted heaven to try to force the end of the world? Where was he?!”

“You can't be serious?” Dean asked, not able to stop himself, “God, himself just sent a damn order, I don't know what you three are doing, I don't care, me and Sam, we save people. That's what we do, so if the world is ending and god is telling us to come to him, we're going.”

Gabriel nodded, “I'm with them.” He said.

“You're not going anywhere,” Lucifer barked, he turned toward Micheal his tone pleading, “brother please, He can't beat her alone, that's why he's ordering us around, together we're stronger than he is, we're stronger than her also, they don't stand a chance against us. Together, we can trap not just her, but him to, remake the world the way it should have been, the paradise that he envisioned before he abandoned the mission. Before he abandoned us.”

“He had a reason,” Micheal said.

“After all this time you still buy that? I don't understand, after everything he's done to us, after everything he's done to you, you're still blinded by your faith in him.”

“It's not blind faith, it's just faith. I'm not going to indulge your selfish petty arguments, he told us where to go, for once just do what he asks. Just give up your pride for a few seconds and see this is what we are suppose to do, it's what we're meant to do, the world is a better place when we follow his orders. We were never meant to be the ones calling the shots.”

“I was.” Lucifer said, “I am more than his lap dog, more than a servant for the miserable creatures he decided he loved more than us. I am...

“You're a megalomaniac.” Gabriel said, “you always have been.”

“maybe I am, but I never bowed to something as perverse and corrupt as a glorified ape.” Lucifer argued, “they don't deserve his love, we did, and he turned against us in favor of them.”

“We don't have time for this,” Dean said, looking to Gabriel for help. The angel nodded and lifted Sam. He disappeared, a few seconds later he was back next to dean, “guys, come on clocks ticking.” he muttered and Dean felt the air displace around him. A blink and he was in a cemetery beneath a clear sky.

“Where are we?” Dean asked.

“You don't remember.” a voice came from behind him, “but this is where your brother saved the world.”

Dean turned around quickly to see Sam laying on the ground between him and the man. Next to him Gabriel fell to his knees. “Father,” he said in a tear filled tremble, "I'm sorry." 

 


	22. Chapter 22

There was a soft smile, “hello Gabriel.” he said, “you can stand, I'm not what I was.”

“You're God?” Dean asked.

“I am.” he answered meeting Dean's gaze directly.

“Then what are you waiting for, help him.” He said, “Don't just stand there, fix what Lucifer did to him, take that crap out of his head.”

“Why?” He asked crossing his arms and surveying Dean.

Dean was dumbfounded, “because we need him.”

“We or You?” He asked, “it's a very simple question, I mean I have 3 arch angels, all the host of heaven the souls of everyone not corrupted by demons since the universe created, the souls corrupted by hell if I choose to go that route, what difference will he make?”

“Please.” Dean said, “You know, so just please.”

“No.” He said, “A million choices lead to this moment. A million little actions some you know about some you don't. Your choices, Sam's choices, the choices of Demons and Angels and demigods. Why should I negate the free will of billions for one?”

“Well the way I see it, you have one arch angel.” he pointed at Gabriel, “and me,” he put his hand over his heart, “and I'm not doing anything until you get off your ass and fix my brother.”

“Micheal and Lucifer are coming.” He said, “They just have to decide it for themselves. They'll be here.”

“You can't know that.” Dean argued.

“I do,” God answered, “have a little faith Dean.”

“Sam's the one with faith,” He said, “you said it yourself, he saved the world, he doesn't deserve this.”

“You're right, he doesn't.” Was the answer, “He choose this though, this was the consequence of his choice, to sacrifice himself for the greater good, would you have me negate that choice as well? Take away the consequences? Make it all better? Is that what you think I'm here for?”

“Then why are you?” Dean asked.

“Amara, the darkness, she's going to destroy and consume everything, the entire universe. You think this is bad? You have no idea what it was before. I'm here to stop her.”

“She's your sister.”

“In a word you can understand, sure. But think of it more as a cosmic balance. For life there's death, for heaven there's hell, for existence there is non-existance. Nothing, but darkness and chaos.” He moved closer, “I Am.” He gestured around, “she Is Not. Life, love, death, hatred, right and wrong. In the end it only means something because it's choices. Existing is hard, but to not exist, to have nothing exist is so much worse.”

“So what, Sam just suffers, because you decide to punish us?”

“That's what consequence means,” he said, “I didn't do this to your brother, I neither punish nor reward, you want your brother fixed, figure out how to do it yourself.”

“I can't.”

“Of course you can.” He said, “you want an easy solution, I'm not giving you one. I could though, I mean it'd almost be easy, wave my hand and just erase every bad memory from your brother's head. Of course, I mean I could also bring back the dead, the people you've lost that you still miss, and I mean, I could make you rich, or make you famous, erase those freckles while I'm at it. I could change everything about you. But then, you wouldn't be you anymore, would you? You're like art Dean, each and every one of you, it's not what I do that makes you who you are, it won't be me that takes those choices away, not from anyone, not even Lucifer. Every being is responsible for their own choices, the consequences sometimes aren't fair, sometimes the wrong person ends up paying, like your brother. But that's the price for free will.”

“That's a load of crap,” Dean argued, “pseudo intellectual shit I'm sure some people would just eat out of the palm of your hand, it's exactly the kind of excuse they want for why you don't step in, make things better. But you're not fooling me, you don't help because you don't want to help.”

He shrugged, “believe what you want.” He knelt down next to Sam and whispered something Dean couldn't hear, before standing up, “Never say I didn't do anything for you,” He said to Dean, “Wake up Sam.” He ordered. The affect was instantaneous, Dean watched his brother blink slowly awake, saw him look in weird surprise around him.

“Hi Sam,” God whispered.

“Chuck?” Sam scrambled to his feet, “What the hell are you doing here, we thought you were dead.”

“That might have been a minor misunderstanding.”

“Chuck?” Dean asked, “your name is _Chuck_?”

“Well, yeah, I mean it's a lot easier to blend in that way.”

“and you know him?” Dean turned to Sam, still not sure how this was about to go, Sam looked down, “He's a prophet, wrote some books,” Sam laughed, “Not that your ego needs it, but Cas called them 'The Winchester Gospels.' or something like that, It's kind of hard to remember.”

Dean couldn't believe what he was even hearing, “Sam, focus” Dean said, “What do you remember?”

Sam looked away from him, his fingers dug into his palm a few seconds, “where's the car?”

“Sorry, kind of caught a ride with an angel.” Dean said, gesturing to Gabriel.

Micheal finally appeared, but he was alone, he stumbled a step instead of appearing smoothly and almost tripped. His eyes landed on chuck, “The prophet?” He staggered a step and Gabriel caught him.

“Yeah, guess again,” Chuck said.

He tilted his head and looked like he was studying a complex problem before his eyes widened and he did what Gabriel had done as well, sinking to the dry grass, “Father, what can I do for you?”

“Get off the ground,” he suggested, “please, it's making me really uncomfortable.”

“Father?” Sam said, “but that would make you.”

“Yeah.” Chuck said, “wondered how long it'd take you to figure it out.”

“No.” Sam said, his hand digging into his coat pocket. “we would have known, we had the amulet.”

“Looking for this?” Chuck asked holding it up.

“Hey, that's mine,” Dean said recognizing it immediately.

“technically it's Sam's.” he said, “you gave it up.” He tossed it toward Sam, half way there it went from simple and bronze, to blindingly bright, Sam caught it in the air, light slipped out around his fingers and he opened his hand looking at it in surprise.

“Consequences Dean, be careful what you throw away.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

Dean watched Sam look at the amulet in his hand, his breath held. Sam had his eyes on it for a few seconds before putting it in his pocket without looking at Dean. He swallowed, Dean could practically hear the click in his throat.

“I'm sorry I threatened to shoot you, I didn't realize, you were, you know, God.” Sam said at last.

“Don't be, it was amusing.” Chuck said smiling, “you did good Sam.”

“I screwed it all up,” Sam answered.

“You think so?” He asked, “well, at least your intentions were good.”

Sam smiled slightly, “I can't believe you're here, that you came to us.”

“I need you.” He said, “of course, the choice has to be yours”

Sam looked at Dean for the first time, “yeah, I'll do whatever you need me to.”

“Sam, don't,” Dean said, needing to warn him about what the angel's had told him before.

Sam looked away from him, “but I have things I want to know first.”

Chuck nodded, “we have time, not much, but a little will be plenty.”

Lightning sparked off the scattered gravestones when the other angel joined them. He launched himself past them throwing himself at Chuck with Cas' sword drawn. Dean barely had time to process that he was there before he saw him sinking the silver tipped blade to the handle into the deity's chest.

Micheal and Gabriel moved at the same time, jerking him away, their own weapons drawn.

“Come on, you know I had to be sure,” He said, “I'm not just taking the word of the first asshole that shows up claiming to be God.”

Chuck pulled the angel blade out and held it in front of him, looking at it, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “I'm glad you joined us.”

“I'm not helping you.” Lucifer said.

“Okay,” Chuck answered, and held the blade out to Sam. He hesitated a fraction of a second before wrapping a hand around the hilt.

“Better?” Chuck asked sparing Sam only a glance. Dean could see the way he relaxed a fraction some of the tension melting out of him.

Sam didn't answer, his grip tightening on the blade.

“Sleep Lucifer,” Chuck ordered and the angel slumped in their grip. Chuck placed a hand over his heart, and his eyes opened slowly. Dean was afraid that he'd managed to ignore the order until he saw the smile, “Hi, Cas.” He said.

The confusion on his face was almost comical, until he looked at Dean, “what did you do?” He asked.

“It's a long story,” Dean offered, “I honestly have no idea.”

“Bigger fish,” Gabriel said, “the world's still ending.”

“Right, Amara is strong, and pissed, Last time I had four arch angels. By my count I'm down two.” He took a breath, Looked at Sam, Dean and Cas in turn, “That's where you three come in.”

“What?” Dean asked before he could stop himself.

“You have to choose it, I can't make you do it, but all the power, the perks, the position, all of it would be yours, forever.” He said, “you just have to help me lock her up first.”

“No,” Micheal said, “we tried it your way, we caged her up and Lucifer kept the key, and look what it did to him, look what it did to Dean, none of us can carry that burden and not be corrupted by it.”

“And you won't.” Chuck said, “I will,” he looked away, his eyes on the ground before he said, “but from the other side.”

“What?” The sound of Sam's shock pulled Dean's eyes back to him, “You can't do that.”

“Come on Sam, taking a page straight from your playbook. It was a good call, and it worked, and if there's no version of the mark on this side, it can't be removed, not even accidentally.”

“But, we need you. The world needs you.”

“They'll have you, you've kept it spinning this long. Both of you, you'll have the power and support of all of heaven to keep doing what you're doing.”

“They won't follow us.” Cas said, “I tried.”

“That's their choice, but I have faith in you, the five of you can win them over, put them on the right track and keep them there.” He smiled and Dean could see wetness in his eyes, it was weird being the one to witness god crying. “What do you say.”

Dean opened his mouth, not knowing even what he could say to something like that.

“No.” Sam said the word shocking them all into silence, it was so choked and quiet at first Dean wasn't sure he heard right, thought there might have been more to it, then Sam met his eyes, and what he saw there made Dean want to take a step away, the look was dark and filled with anger. “No.” He repeated, to Dean making it clear he was making the choice for both of them.

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

“Sam, lets talk about this.” Dean whispered, “I mean, imagine what we could do with power backing us up.”

“I have.” Sam said, “I've done the super powered thing, and it always comes with a price.” He closed his eyes, and Dean had to fight the urge to go to him, knew instinctively that his touch wouldn't be welcomed. “We wouldn't be human anymore.” He whispered looking at Dean at last, pleading with him to understand. “You'd have to drink entire liquor stores to feel any effect, you wouldn't be able to taste foods you love anymore, we wouldn't need to drive or sleep or anything that makes you human. All of it would be gone forever. It'd be like dying, but it would never end.”

“What do you want Sam?” Chuck said quietly, “I can't do this without you.”

“When it's over, I want out. I don't want power, I don't want to be an angel, I don't want an army I just want to live my life.”

“What as a lawyer?” Dean muttered under his breath, unable to believe that Sam would still be holding on to the idea of chasing a civilian life.

“As a hunter,” Sam said his hand still clutched around the blade, “and,” his breath came out in a harsh laugh, “I still want you with me. I mean I shouldn't right? I should hate you, I have all this shit in my head and it's not okay, and it will never be okay, but I still want you in my life.”

“Sam, whatever you think you remember I swear it never happened, swear on my life, hell I swear on the car,” He smirked, held up his hand, “swear to Chuck.”

“Hey,” Chuck said, “leave me out of this.”

Dean saw the quivering beginning of a smile, “I'll make this right Sammy, please just give me a chance to prove it.”

Sam said, “we need to save the world first, otherwise its not going to matter long enough to make a difference.”

“So, was that a yes?” Gabriel asked hesitantly.

“No.” Sam said, “you have to fix him, give me my brother back.”

“I already asked.” Dean said, “he won't.”

“That's on you,” Chuck said, “I can tell you there's an answer out there, you just have to find it.”

“Cryptic,” Dean muttered, “can't just like tell me the name of a book or where to look or something.”

“You have to do it for yourself Dean, I can't do it for you.”

“Fine, well, I'm in let's get this show on the road.”

“Dean, please,” Sam whispered, “please don't do this.”

“Come on Sammy, it's the entire world, it's not like I wasn't planning on spending eternity with you anyways.”

“I can't,” Sam said, “I can't be one of them, not after everything they've done.”

“Sam,” Cas pulled himself away from his brother's grip, Sam took a half a step away before stopping and holding his ground.

“Sorry, Cas, just he's still in you, I can't...just don't touch me okay?” Cas turned back to Sam, the look on his face was pained, “I'm sorry.” Cas said, holding up his hands and stepping away “Sam I'm sorry,” he said, “I didn't have time to come up with a better option, please take what's being offered. You have never been the kind to choose to hurt others, even when you could. I know what you're scared of, you're scared you'll break the world.”

“I can't.” Sam whispered, “not again, I shouldn't have that kind of power.”

“I know you think that but Heaven needs you Sam. I already told you, I was lost before you. Your guidance, your intelligence, your compassion, is what the world needs. I tried to lead them, when I should have been following you.”

“That's touching,” Dean said, “and a little creepy.”

“What about you two,” Chuck asked, “you on board?”

Gabriel said shrugging, “Dean's an ass, but Sam's okay for someone so prudish.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, noticing that Micheal gave a slight nod, silent agreement. “Come on Sam,” Dean urged, “whatever happens we'll make it work.”

“Angels have to possess people.” Sam said, “I won't do that. Not ever, not to anyone.”

“Angels aren't meant to work on this plane of existence. The only way they can interact in a way that's perceivable to humans is to work through a human. You two would be different, like Cas is different.”

“What?” Cas asked turning back to him, “I'm not – ”

“You were able to give another angel permission to use your vessel, that shouldn't have worked, the body belonged to Jimmy, not you originally and you never thought to question why it did?” Chuck said smiling. “This is a reconstruction, not the original. That's why it's stronger, that's why it's uniquely yours. I could have made you anything, but this, this is how you see yourself, not light, not the building size of your original form. This.” He smiled, “the problem with angels was they were never human enough. You are.”

Whatever Cas thought of the comment he was silent as he digested it, he lifted his hand toward sam, then thought better of it dropping it to his side.

Sam closed his eyes took a breath then his reached out and laid his hand on Cas' shoulder. “Okay,” He said, “okay,” he repeated, “I trust you,” he said looking at chuck, “I don't think I'll ever be fully okay with it, but if you say it's what needs done, do it.”

Sam met Dean's eyes for a fraction of a second nodded once and closed his eyes. Dean did the same, felt a hand placed over his shoulder before the world faded into pain and chaos, every cell in his body felt like it was vibrating, and itching and rupturing at once. He felt like he was swallowed in darkness at the same time his retina's burned from blinding light. In the seconds before he lost consciousness he was sure that it hadn't worked and that he was dying. His last thought was that he hoped that Sam was able to handle it better than he did.

 


	25. Chapter 25

There is something to be said for waking up in the middle of a cemetery. Of course it's nothing good, words like, “fuck” and “damn it” tend to come to mind. At least that's what Dean felt like when he came to staring at a faded white stone worn down beyond recognition.

His head throbbed, and he could hear people talking. Some of them sounded like they were screaming, and some were so muffled he couldn't even make out the words. “Will you shut up,” he said, trying to drag himself to his feet and find the source of the noise.

A hand appeared in front of his face and he took it, looked up into the smiling, if exhausted looking face of chuck, “Feel sick?” He asked, “It's okay if you do, I mean most people would.”

Dean felt suffocated by an overwhelming sense of loss. “What?” he managed to choke out the words before he stumbled and fell again.

“Focus,” He said, “you can tune it out, you just have to focus.”

“you try focusing with the whole world screaming in your head.”

“I know, it takes some getting use to.” Dean stood gasping at the edge of screaming if the noise in his head didn't ease up a little. He heard someone scream his name. A bolt of something almost painful shot threw him.

“I'm okay, just stop whatever that is.” He said, not looking for the source of the sound.

“You'll get use to it,” Gabriel said, reaching in his pocket, “here,” he said dropping a hand full of candy in Dean's hand, “chocolate helps.”

Dean was ready to try just about anything at that point so tearing it open like it was a lifeline rather than a cheap mimicry of good candy wasn't above him. If he thought it was going to be bad, when it was in his mouth it was worse, he spit out the bite before he managed to get his teeth all the way through it. “That tastes like ass.” He said, “are you trying to kill me?”

It was overwhelming how horrible the taste actually was, it was like the flavor had become bad in multiple dimensions. He didn't understand how anyone could ever think that something like that tasted good or even tasted anything like chocolate. He couldn't even pinpoint one thing that it actually tasted like, it was like everything was in his mouth at once and it was the grossest thing that he'd ever tasted.

“better?” Gabriel asked a few seconds later, Dean hadn't noticed when the yelling had dropped down to a whisper.

“what did you do?” He asked.

“Nothing, you just needed something else to focus on.”

Dean had a second to figure things out then the more pressing issue came up, he hadn't heard a sound from Sam, “Is he okay?” He asked, without specifying who.

“Yeah, he got tired of waiting around for you to wake up and left.” Gabriel said leaning back against a stunted tree.

“What do you mean he left? Where did he go?”

“Indiana.” Sam said from behind him, “there was a thing, but I took care of it.”

“A thing?”

“Don't worry about it,” Sam said, and looked down at the ground, “so what's the plan?” He asked at last rubbing his hands on his jeans.

“We know what we need to do, but you two need to figure out what you're doing first.”

As if to prove he didn't have any control Dean heard the words, “please” start echoing in his head, over and over, harsh and desperate and in quick succession.

“I've got it,” Sam whispered and Dean watched him disappear.

He felt like he was going to lose his mind in the three minutes he was gone. The whispered prayer stopped and seconds later Sam was back, smiling slightly.

“What did you do?” Dean asked.

“Nothing.” Sam said, Dean could see in the way he looked away that he was lying, but he couldn't figure out what he was doing. Couldn't figure out what he even could be doing in the few minutes he was vanishing for.

Dean felt a bolt of panic. Sam went pale and was gone again before Dean could say anything.

This time he came back he looked like he was about to fall out where he stood.

“Sam, you got to stop, you can't get them all. You're going to wear yourself out.”

“I can't ignore them.” He said.

“You're going to have to. At least till the job is over.”

“I can't just watch people die. Not when I can do something about it.”

“You can't save everyone.”

“I can try.” Sam argued, his fist clenched in determination.

“Wait,” Dean said, “Just take me with you okay, you don't have to do it alone.”

Before he had time to think what that would mean Sam grabbed his wrist and they were somewhere else, “I'll never get use to that,” Dean grumbled looking around the room they'd landed in. It was a small bedroom, the walls were painted a baby pink that Dean could make out even in the dark. Before Dean had time to process Sam was throwing someone against the wall light flared around him and the guy fell hard to the floor.

Sam was moving instantly going to where a little girl wearing ripped pajamas was hiding behind the corner of a dresser. Sam went down to his knees on the floor, he whispered, “you okay?” She nodded, but Dean could feel the terror coming off her in waves.

“Stay here,” Sam said, “we'll be right back.”

Dean followed Sam through the darkened halls. The house was empty and Dean could feel frustration an anger rolling off his brother in waves.

“Okay,” Sam said reaching out a hand to the girl, “I'm going to take you somewhere safe okay? He's not going to hurt you anymore. You're safe now. I promise.”

“Focus on the cemetery, you should be able to get back there on your own,” Sam said not looking at Dean.

“Where are you...” Dean didn't get a chance to ask before Sam was gone again, taking the girl wherever he deemed safe. Dean looked down at the body on the floor. Smoke still poured out of the empty sockets where his eyes had been. A torn scrap of the girl's pajamas was still clutched in his fist.

“Buddy did you pick the wrong day.” He muttered then something caught his attention, there was light swirling within the body, faint, but there, he watched it as it moved then moved out into the air. He turned in time to see a woman standing there in a brown leather jacket.

“Dean Winchester.” She said, “well this is an unexpected twist.”

“Who are you?” Dean asked, not sure if he'd seen her before or not.

“I'm a reaper.”

“Well, I guess I'm an angel.” Dean said grinning, “so either this is the set up for a bad joke, or the universe just started making a lot more sense.” He leaned back against the wall. “You here for him.”

“This time.” She said giving dean a look that said she'd rather be after him.

“Good.” Dean said, “Do me a favor, make sure you drop him in the worst part of hell you can find. Okay?”

“I don't take orders,” She said, then winked. He watched her disappear before turning his attention back to what Sam had told him to do.

Dean closed his eyes and when he opened them he was standing beneath the kansas sky, his brother was sitting on the ground.

Chuck held up his hands, in surrender when Dean turned toward him, “We told him to slow down.”

“You okay?” Dean asked sinking down to the ground next to his brother. He could see now where he hadn't looked before that Sam was lit up from the inside out. Where the light in the dead guy had been so dim it might not have even been there, Sam was radiating so much light it was like it was slipping out around the edges of him. Like it was overflowing from him into the world around him. Dean's eyes were drawn to something else. Something gold and shimmering spreading out beyond his brother.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean said, “you know you have wings? I mean you're practically a fairy at this point. Of course that just means some things are still the same.”

“Yeah,” Sam said his breath coming out harsh around his laughter, “you're still a fucking idiot.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

Dean offered a hand to help his brother up. Sam looked at it like it might bite him before reluctantly taking it. And letting Dean pull him back onto his feet. He was paler than Dean expected but otherwise stood steady.

“You can't save them all,” Dean said, gently knowing that it probably wouldn't do any good. “I know you want to, but if you burn yourself out trying to save everyone that asks for help, you won't have the strength this fights going to take. Just lets save the world first, everyone else can wait.”

“I can't ignore it.” Sam argued. Dean could hear them still but it was getting easier to tune it out. It was becoming a background noise that he barely even noticed, where Sam still looked like he was struggling not to take off at each new voice that was added to the cacophony. “I can't just look the other way.”

“Sure you can,” Gabriel said, from where he had wandered off to, “This threat isn't just to them it's to Dean, you go into this fight at half strength, your brother might die, and we all know how you feel about that.” He said it off handed, but Dean saw the look that crossed Sam face.

“Fuck you,” Sam said, and Dean could see there was venom behind it. He hadn't noticed Sam's reaction to the angel before, but if he was afraid of Lucifer he hated Gabriel. Dean couldn't help but notice the way his brother was clenching his fist, his knuckles stress white to match the murder in his gaze. He was clearly ready to throw a punch at the arch angel despite the fact they were suppose to be working together. It was one more thing that made him regret the choice to erase it all. He didn't know what he could do to ease the tension or if there was even anything he could say that wouldn't make it all worse.

“Easy killer, just pointing out the obvious.” Gabriel said holding up his hands in mock surrender, I would prefer it if we all come out of this in one piece, that means we need you to take a break from the heroics for a few days, then you can get back to pulling puppies from trees or whatever the hell it is you white knight types do.”

Dean waited for Sam to lose his temper. He expected Sam to scream and yell and rant and rave an maybe even through a few punches. Their job had always been first and foremost to save people. He could practically hear Sam telling him off, saying they don't skip jobs because it's inconvenient. He waited for the arguments that didn't come. Sam breathed out a slow defeated sound before saying, “okay.” and he closed his eyes.

Dean didn't know what he should do, if his brother needed comfort or distraction or what. So instead he waited for some sign. When Sam opened his eyes he looked calmer, collected and business like in a way that Dean hadn't seen.

Sam turned to Chuck, “What's the plan, how do we take her out.”

Chuck smiled slightly, “I already told you, Swan Song.”

“I don't know what that means.” Dean said.

But Sam apparently did, he explained, “It's a someone's last act before dying, like one last big thing.”

“Also, Swan Song is the name of a book.” Chuck said, “I mean a real downer ending, but otherwise, some of my best work.” He took on a more serious look, “basically for the ones who weren't there, I take the mark, reopen the hole she crawled out of, grab her, and you guys just,” He mimicked the motion of shoving someone, “push.”

“That simple?” Dean asked.

“It's not even remotely simple.” He said, “she's strong, pissed, and not going to be easy to take the mark back from, but if we are extremely lucky it should work.”

 


	27. Chapter 27

Dean stood at the edge of the end of the world. He found himself missing beyond belief how simple his life had been before he woke up to find himself a decade displaced from time. He missed driving down endless blacktop roads without worrying that it was going to be the last time. Not just for him, but for everyone who had ever lived their life behind the wheel.

They could have gotten there with a thought, but they still had some time, and he wanted it. One more drive with his brother at his side just in case they failed. Just in case it was the last time. Now though, with the vibration of the engine, and the sun glaring off the cars on the highway he didn't know what to say.

Sam was suspiciously silent. Looking out the window at the sky, careful to never even look at Dean.

Dean had so much that he wanted to say, so much that he felt that he couldn't just let lie between them if this really was going to be the end of everything. But he didn't know how to say it.

“So, if this doesn't go the way we want it to...” Dean started.

“Save it.” Sam said, “We'll win, we always do.”

“If we don't?” Dean asked, “I mean I don't know how this pull Amara has on me is going to work when it comes down to the actual fight, I don't know that I'll be able to do anything against her when it comes right down to it.”

“You'll fight her,” Sam said quietly.

Dean cleared his throat, “are you okay?” He asked after Sam looked at him.

He shrugged, “I don't know. It's kind of hard to tell what's real, what I'm imagining, and what's the angel stuff.”

Dean knew what he meant about that, it was something he personally felt he was doing a good job ignoring, but sometimes it felt like if he lost focus he was going to drown in the prayers that were finding their way into his head.

“What about us, are we okay?” Dean asked, he could have kicked himself but he needed to know, needed to know that when it was over they could find the way to get back the years he lost and they'd be close again. Sam maybe would actually be able to look at him without looking panicked again.

“I don't know,” Sam said again, “I wish I could tell you it's okay, but it's not. It might never be okay, I know it's not real, and I know that you didn't do it, but it feels real, I remember what it felt like when...” He stopped talking leaving Dean with the feeling there was more that he wanted to say more that he needed to say but he didn't want Dean to know the kind of stuff he had in his head.

Sam reached for the radio and turned it up. Dean looked over at him, not able to believe that his brother had pulled on of his own tricks to avoid conversation. It wasn't going to work, that was for damn sure. Dean hit the button and turned the radio off. “Dude, talk to me, tell me what I can do.”

“Nothing.” Sam said, “you can't fix this.”

“Sam –”

“No,” Sam interrupted him, “this isn't a bad dream, or some spell that can be broken or something that is just going to magically go away because I know it didn't happen. I can't choose to not remember.” He twisted to face dean abruptly, “you kissed me.”

“What?” Dean asked surprised that Sam had even remembered after all the alcohol and the way they specifically hadn't said anything about it.

“That was you, not something that was put in my head, or that I imagined, or whatever, that was you right?”

It would have been so easy to lie. He wanted to deny it. To say it was the alcohol or part of the stuff that Lucifer had put into his head. He couldn't find voice to admit it. Instead he nodded slightly focusing on the highway in front of them so he didn't see the way Sam took the admission.

“Okay,” Sam said, “when this is all over, if we make it through it in one piece you should do it again.”

“are you fucking crazy?” Dean asked abruptly, it was a stupid question, of course he clearly was pretty fucking crazy to have even suggested it.

“Yeah, getting there pretty damn fast,” Sam said quietly, “that's kind of the problem.”

He didn't look over at Sam, but he regretted the outburst. He wanted to make it okay, wanted to know why Sam thought that would even make a difference, but he couldn't bring himself to look, and asking was definitely out of the question.

Dean felt a deep ache that went all the way through him, it almost felt like the prayers. He closed his eyes and willed the feeling away unsure even of it's source only that it hit him suddenly and painfully.

Dean's fingers drummed out a rhythm on the steering wheel. He gave up on the need to drive and pulled over the next place he saw.

“We don't have time for this.” Sam said, “We should just go.”

“World's ending Sammy, right now is all we've got.” Dean pulled into a convenience store and starting filling the gas tank back up, leaning against the sun hot black metal. It should have been too hot to rest his hand on, and he felt it, and knew it, but at the same time it didn't hurt, didn't burn the way it would have before. He moved his hand to another spot, felt the heat, but not the sting. It was definitely something he was going to have to get use to.

He waited until the gas pump shut off with a click. He was going to go get snacks, not because he wanted them, hell if Gabriel's candy was any indicator, it wouldn't even be worth eating, but it was what they had always done.

He went to the passenger door to ask Sam if he wanted anything. The car was empty. He checked in the store, found no one there, but an old guy behind the cash register reading a magazine with a picture of a black lab puppy with a duck decoy in his mouth.

He didn't ask if he'd seen Sam. Didn't have to ask to know that Sam had taken off again. Somehow he thought it might be the last chance he had to tell Sam how much he meant, and somehow he'd managed to completely blow it.

 


	28. Chapter 28

Dean pulled back onto the highway feeling lost. He knew where he needed to go, but he just wasn't ready to get there yet. When he passed a bright purple building with a pink neon silhouette of a girl he let baby roll into the parking lot of her own violation.

He sat staring at the building for a few seconds, the world was ending, he might be in the center of it, if nothing else he deserved a few minutes to enjoy the simple things in life.

Through the doors there was sawdust on the floor, the stage looked like it'd been thrown together in an afternoon by a drunk carpenter. But the girls were smiling and the beer he was handed was ice cold with a skim of condensation on the bottle, exactly what he needed.

He found a seat not too far from the stage, and settled back to watch and spend a few hours forgetting. The first sip of the beer made him want to throw up. He looked at the familiar label and sighed, shoving it across the table. It wasn't like he hadn't known it wouldn't taste the same, he'd just managed to let himself believe for just a few seconds that he could just have one more good moment.

The place was a little dead, but it was still pretty early. He was just getting comfortable when a pretty girl approached him hips swaying to the beat of the music and he smiled at her. Her face was lit up bright and happy and seductive, but he heard her voice echo through his head, “please god, don't be a creep.”

He wondered if that's what he looked like to her. He felt her desperation though, how badly she needed to make her bills, how worried she was that someone was going to try to do something she didn't want. She was putting on a good face, but he could feel that underneath it she was worried. He realized she might not even be aware of how worried she really was.

He pulled out his wallet, gave her the few twenties he had stuffed in there and made his way out the door. He wanted to scream at chuck for taking away his ability to enjoy two of his favorite things. Beer and strippers. He leaned back against the wall trying to get his bearings.

He needed to go see someone. Anyone, to make him feel alive and human for a few minutes before the world ended. Sam was out of the question. His dad was gone, for that matter almost everyone he'd ever been close to was gone.

It was an impulse, but it wasn't like it wasn't the worst one he ever had. He took the road that would take him to Cicero. He wondered how Lisa had held up over the years, she'd been a knock out when he'd last seen her, dark hair, dark eyes. And a smile that could knock him off his feet. He wondered if Lisa was still teaching yoga.

The world might be ending, so who would judge him if he stopped in to visit an old friend?


	29. Chapter 29

Dean stood outside a plain gray building. He felt like he should have just turned around and walked away. Should have left the second he was told where he could find her. But the world was ending if he could do something to help her he thought he should at least try.

The lady at the reception desk smiled at him warmly, “I'm looking for Lisa Braeden.”

She handed him a clip board, “sign in, I'll get you a guest badge and find someone to take you to her.”

He was still waiting for the badge when a kid in a black AC/DC shirt walked out of the doors. His guest badge was pinned to the front of his shirt. Dean would place him at about 16 or 17. It was like looking into a slightly distorted mirror.

“You know my mom?” The kid asked.

“Yeah, or I knew her.” He said, “a long time ago.”

“what are you doing here?”

“Was just passing through, thought I'd look her up and say hi. I didn't realize that she was here though.”

“It's been a rough few years.” he said.

“What happened?” Dean asked not really wanting to know the answer, he held out hope that he could fix it. That maybe it was just the kind of thing that he could put some of this new crap to doing some good for someone.

The kid shrugged, “few years ago she had a mental break down. She doesn't believe I'm her kid. Has a few problems remembering what year it is. Has massive gaps in her memory.”

“That sucks,” Dean said, “Is it like early onset Alzheimer's or something?”

“They don't think so.” He said, “but they don't really know for sure. One day she was fine, we got in a car wreck, some drunk guy ran into us. And then she started forgetting things, where we live, what year it is, little stuff. Then one day she said she couldn't remember getting pregnant. She couldn't remember who my dad was. A few months later she just...snapped. I don't know how else to describe it.”

Dean followed the kid back to a room. It was simple a bed, dresser and tv on the wall. She sat in an armchair by the window with a book in one hand. She smiled when they walked in.

“Hi, Ben,” she said, “you okay buddy?”

“Yeah, I'm good.”

“How's school going?”

“almost over,” He said sitting down on the bed, “someone came to see you.” Dean followed him into the room, hesitant to see how she'd react to seeing him.

“do I know you?” She asked looking up at him.

He swallowed, “I'm Dean, we met a few years ago. I thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing.”

“I'm sorry,” She said, “I don't remember you.”

“are you okay?” Ben asked, his eyes widening in alarm, “any new blank spots?”

“I don't know.” she said, “I don't think so though, I think this just might be time not the other thing.”

“Are you sure?”

She shrugged, “I don't know.”

Dean put his hand on the kids shoulder, “mind if I spend a few minutes alone with your mom?”

“You can go on, I'll be fine,” Lisa answered for him, “promise honey, I'll be right here.”

“If you need anything – ” he started moving hesitantly toward the door.

“Dean will take care of it.” she interrupted him, looking at Dean for confirmation.

Ben looked at Dean then nodded and walked outside letting the door close behind him.

“He's a good kid,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” she said, but then she looked sad, “so I'm sorry, who did you say you are again?”

“I'm,” he didn't want to come out and say _the guy you spent a weekend having kinky sex with_ instead he said, “we met in a bar back in cicero, it was a good time for me.”

She looked thoughtful, “I'm sorry I have some problems.” she shook her head slightly, “I can't remember some things, and some people, I got into a car wreck and forgot a lot of things, where I lived, who my son's father is, you know, little things.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, he didn't want to come out and say that he thought he could fix her, especially if it turned out that he couldn't.

He swallowed past that if he could help her, then he needed to do it. No matter if she thought he was crazy. “I'm here to help you,” he said softly, “but just stay calm okay?” He let the focus slip a little let the newly acquired grace shine through him and felt the power spreading out around him. Her lips parted slightly in surprise but she didn't scream. When he pulled it back under control she asked softly, “what are you?”

“An angel,” he said, “i mean i'm kind of new, haven't really got it all figured out yet, but I did meet you about 18 or 19 years ago, and you meant a lot to me, and I want to help you if I can.”

She nodded, licked her lips nervously, “okay.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, the way I see it either I really am crazy and in that case I'm exactly where I need to be. Or you're telling the truth, and you can fix my head, so I can get out of here, either way I have nothing to lose.” He could see how much she meant it in the steady way she held his gaze. 

Dean moved to crouch in front of her chair, he pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, “you are very beautiful.” He said softly. Then rested his hand cupping her jaw, he fought the urge to kiss her knowing it would destroy the trust that she needed to have in what he was about to do.

“Thank you,” she said and blushed slightly. 

He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he reached out with his mind seeking into the place his hand rested against her skin looking for the damage that had robbed her of her memories.

 


	30. Chapter 30

When Dean reached into Lisa's mind he wasn't sure what he expected to find. Scar tissue, maybe some kind of hole or something, he expected it to be something mundane, or at least human in cause. He never expected to find himself.

He was pulled into the memories she had of him. They flooded his head at the same time they flooded hers. A million little moments he never expected to experience. The smell of barbecue on a grill. The way she looked waking up in the morning sleepy eyed and messy hair flying in all directions.

He remembered waking up screaming for Sam and her being there, wrapping her arms around him, silent and comforting. He remembered clinging to her and pouring his grief out with his face pressed into her neck.

Remembered teaching the kid outside to work on a truck.

Remembered the fights, and the yelling he didn't mean to do. He remembered making them move to make himself feel safer and it failed.

He remembered telling her Sam was back. How she'd taken it in stride, how she'd looked scared when she asked if he was sure then relieved when Sam walked into the room, still terrified though.

At the end of it he saw Cas walking toward her, an apology on his lips and knew what he had to have done.

When he fled the knowledge and the memory back to the safety of his own mind, he felt it had been better for both of them to not know. That demons had taken her hostage because he loved her. That he had left her for them to find.

He had to go, had to get away from her and the look that was on her face. Somewhere between accusation and horror, he wondered if she was processing it any better than he was, he felt like he was going to be sick.

He knew she must hate him, that he should never have touched her, never have let something like this happen, but it had to have been the right thing, he didn't want to believe that he would have intended for her to end up questioning reality, lost because of the things he took from her.

He met her eyes only long enough to see the shock there, and then ran for the door. Shoving it open, feeling dazed he forgot that he could even leave with just a thought, unable to think of anything except getting away.

“Dean stop!” she yelled at him.

He didn't want to, wanted to keep going, wanted to avoid hearing whatever she was about to say for the rest of his life. But he stopped, because she told him to, and he owed her that much. He turned back slowly.

She let out a tired breath, “come back inside, we should talk.”

He followed her reluctantly, standing by the door. Ready to go the second she told him to. She sat down roughly, and looked down at her hands. Before looking back up at him, “you...” she looked back out the window. “you did this to me.”

“I'm sorry,” He said, “i didn't remember, and I didn't mean for this to happen, if I knew about Ben, I would have never let this happen.

“Did it ever occur to your ego, there's a reason I didn't tell you.” she gestured around her, “this is just one more thing that proves, no matter how much I love you, how much good you do, I can't trust you.”

He started to argue, to say something to his own defense. She held up a hand, “no, I'm not hearing it. Let me guess, you're about to go save the world again and were what feeling nostalgic?”

“I didn't know,” Dean said again, “I didn't remember myself until just now with you, I just wanted to help you, I swear I didn't know.”

Dean looked toward the door, “so he was mine?”

“Yeah, but you stay the hell away from my son.” She said, “blood doesn't give you the right to his life.”

“Okay,” Dean said, “Can he drive?”

“What?” She asked, surprised by the change of subject, “yeah.”

“Good.” Dean reached into his pocket trailed his finger over the impala keys and pulled them out. He removed a couple of them and put them back in his pocket, “if I don't make it back make sure he gets these, I'll leave you a bill of sale in the glove box when I clean her out, so you don't have to tell him where she came from, just make sure he takes care of her okay? I mean that car's helped save the world.” he smiled, “she belongs with family.”

She looked like she was going to say no, like she wanted to forbid it and rant and scream and yell instead she took them from him. “Okay,” she closed her fist around the keys and held them to her chest, “but I expect you to come back for it.”

“I hope so,” he said, “but I think this time might really be the last time, this is bigger than anything we've ever faced, and Sam's, well I'd be surprised if he ever wants to see me again when this is over.” he shrugged, “he doesn't need the car anyways, it'd just slow him down.”

“Does Sam know you're here? That you're giving away your dad's car? I mean I think he'd have something to say about it.”

Dean shrugged, “I don't expect Sam to make it back either, but I'll tell him where she is.”

“Okay,” Lisa said, “Go save the world, and if you or Sam make it back, she'll be waiting, if not, I'll make sure she's taken care of.”

“Thank you, I know I don't deserve to ask it, especially after what all I've done, but it means a lot.”

“You saved the world dean, you saved my son, I wouldn't be here without you. I don't want you anywhere near me or my son, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate what you're trying to do.”

“Thank you.” he said meaning it, he wanted to apologize to take back everything that he had done to them, to the family he hadn't realized he had.

He left before she could say anything else, before he could talk himself out of all the things he had to do. He wanted to go see his son one more time, now that he knew he had one. But he didn't let himself. It would be too hard to walk away knowing it. It had to have been hard to walk away before, now though he wanted more than anything to make it right. To not abandon his kid. He realized though, that it was a little too late, Ben was too old to need him in his life anymore.

Dean at least hoped the car would make up for all the things he didn't know how to say.

He wondered absently if John had given him the car for roughly the same reason and thought it might be fairly likely. He ached with that loss all over again, as much as sometimes he wished the man could take a break he had always seemed invincible, he was always going to be okay. Then he wasn't.

Details didn't matter so much as the the fact that he was gone.

The thoughts made him crave the warm obliterating comfort of whiskey, and Dean hated knowing even that relief was no longer an option for him. He saw Ben sitting by the door and waved at him when he walked out. The too bright sun, the too blue sky, the too beautiful of the day was personally offensive to him. He moved to the car and removed every sign of their lives from her, leaving only a few mementos of the past that he couldn't bear to touch. Even if no one outside of him and Dean would ever know what they meant.

He ran his hand down the side of her one last time and tried to think of somewhere he wanted to go, some last place to see before the lights go out. Maybe permanently. He couldn't think of anywhere, he just wanted to go wherever his brother was, but he didn't even know how to find him. He turned to the building one last time, saw the room where he knew Lisa and Ben were having their reunion in a sense.

“You did the right thing,” Sam said from behind him.

Dean jumped surprised that he was no longer alone, and surprised to find Sam standing so close to him.

“Come on,” Sam said his hand falling on Dean's wrist, “one more stop on this farewell tour”

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is completely self indulgent. I am avoiding writing the ending. I know it, you know it, hell they probably even know it. I guess I have to get back to writing the apocalypse now.

Dean didn't know where Sam was taking him until the world jumped into focus. They stood in the cemetery next to the grave stones with their parents names carved into them.

“Sam?” Dean whispered, “man what are we doing here?” He didn't want the good bye speech, didn't want to hear it to know his brother was thinking it.

“Just a pit stop,” Sam said and they stood together in the silence for a few minutes feeling the weight of all the things they had lost. Then they were moving again Sam dragged him with him. They stopped at the edge of a lake, somewhere far removed from the rest of the world.

“What are you planning?” Dean asked, he knew the look, Sam was thinking about doing something, probably something dangerous and stupid.

“Right now?” Sam asked, “thought swimming sounded like a good way to spend possibly the last day of summer.”

“Summer doesn't end in May,” Dean said staring out over the water.

“It might this year,” Sam said shrugging.

“You really think this might be the end of the line?” Dean asked.

“Almost sure it is.” Sam said, “i don't think I can keep going after this.”

Dean didn't know what to say to that, instead he decided to tell Sam what he had found out, “Did you know I have a son?”

“I thought so, but I was never really sure,” Sam said, “he's a lot like you.”

“Yeah?” Dean didn't know what else to say, “maybe he has a better shot at something real than we ever had.” He closed his eyes, remembered the stolen year, the only thing he could clearly remember, “so I got some memories back.”

“How?” Sam asked looking genuinely curious.

“I don't know exactly, I was trying to help Lisa and it just all came flooding in. I mean it's all just stuff she remembered, but it's more than I had before.”

Sam looked like he was thinking, “was that really all it took, just a quick trip into her mind?”

“That's not what I was trying to do, I thought it was an injury from a car wreck, I was trying to help her.”

Sam laughed, “Car wreck is an understatement.”

“What are we really doing here?” Dean asked, “I mean come on, it's too damn cold to go swimming. And we should be getting ready to go face down the darkness, not wasting time out in the middle of no where.”

He expected Sam to argue with him, to say what ever it was on his mind that he felt the need to drag Dean to a lake to say it. “We aren't going to be okay,” Sam said at last, “I was hoping for just one more good memory, but it's too late for that.”

“Don't talk like that,” Dean said, “you can't just give up on me, we'll fix this, I'll fix all of it, but you got to want to fight.”

“So do you,” Sam said softly, “you gave up, you think this,” he gestured at Dean, “was anything other than giving up?”

“Don't blame me for something I can't remember doing.” Dean said, “It's not like I can argue with you.”

“You think this is the end?” Dean asked after a few seconds of silence between them, he ran toward the water stripping out of his clothes as he went, “Come on, Sammy last one in the water does laundry for a month.”

He heard Sam laughing behind him, then was completely surprised when his brother appeared standing in the water in front of him, “you really have to figure out this speed of thought movement.”

Dean dove into the chilly water, and then circled around to drag Sam down with him. When they came out Dean felt like he was hit with a truck. Sam was smiling, water clinging to his skin and his hair and it was probably the first time he realized that there was a beauty to his brother, that time and pain had refined. He looked like art.

The thought completely caught him off guard, and Sam got the jump on him dragging him back down into the cool water.

 


	32. Chapter 32

Dean didn't know where the final show down was happening, Chuck appeared and told them it was time and they went. That was the extent of what he knew. They ended up in a field, maybe trying to get away from the possibility of human casualties, but he knew that if they lost it wouldn't matter everyone would die anyways. He was fine, he was ready to face her and win.

Sam gave him a reassuring smile that only wavered a little. Sam and Dean circled the perimeter of the field where the hay had been cut away with oil. Something that smelled like spice and made him feel light headed.

They met back in the middle and shared one last nervous look as chuck reappeared with the other angels, Castiel, and Gabriel and Micheal. Chuck pointed them in the directions he wanted them to go. Sam went East, Micheal to the South, Gabriel was to the west, Dean was to the north of the field and Cas was next to him. Taking the center point between Dean and Gabriel. Chuck stood in the middle.

They formed a circle around the field, just inside the circle of oil, Dean was reminded of the points of a pentagram, a circle of protection. It gave him comfort in a weird way. The predawn light had the sky lit up a dark blue, the morning was promised in fires of neon orange and pink streaking the clouds and Dean couldn't help but thinking that for what could potentially be the last morning it was a good way for it to start.

The sun was just breaking over the horizon when it dimmed almost to the point of being swallowed in darkness. Dean saw the light behind him made Sam look like he had a halo of gold fire. He wondered vaguely if there was more to it than just a trick of the light.

From the edges of the trees hundreds of people came out and formed a line around them, dean saw black lines streaking down their skin. And it send a trickle of something like fear down him. He saw the way Sam studied them. Saw that he didn't look afraid but sad.

A swirl of black filled the sky above them, Dean felt engulfed by it, suddenly terrified by the thought they couldn't win, she was too much, was a god, and they were just hunters, powered up sure, but in the end they were in over their heads.

The smoke formed a column in the center of the field, and folded in on itself taking a form, both familiar and alien.

She looked around meeting all of their eyes before turning back to her brother, “You think you're going to trap me again?” She asked softly, “after all of this, your ego is still too much to believe.” She closed her eyes, “a hand full of second rate angels, against me? I know all of your tricks.” She said, “brother, I thought you would have learned anything in our time apart.”

“You're poison,” He whispered, “and I loved you too much to destroy you, but I can't let you destroy everything that I've built, it's time to go back.”

“I'll kill you before I let you send me back.” She said, “The universe can burn before I'll let you lock me away again.”

“You don't have a choice.” He said.

“Dean,” she yelled his name and he felt her pull, “come to me.” she said.

His feet started moving of their own accord.

He felt something holding him back and looked to see both Sam and Cas focused intently on him.

“oh would you look at that,” she said,”just keeping Dean in his place will keep at least two of your pet angel's busy. Dean fought, and felt like he was being ripped in half. Part of him was trying so hard to get to her, to protect her, because she was his, she felt like part of him, and he couldn't let them hurt her. The other part of him, knew he had to hold his place ready to throw his power against her when the time came.

It started as an ache and within minutes he was in agony, pain outweighing his ability to think. From the opposite side he was half aware of the people walking toward their circle approaching the place they'd spread the oil on the ground. Sam's attention on him wavered long enough for him to pull out a lighter and throw it at the ground a few feet behind him.

The fire chased the oil from both sides meeting in the middle on the opposite side. He felt the heat at his back, felt the panic sense that he couldn't let it touch him. It wasn't just hot, it was scouring, like it would burn him completely out of existence. He saw the few of the darkness possessed that had been close enough to the flames fall screaming to the ground. An instant later the others were on them, ripping them apart, he couldn't watch it, he had to get to Amara, to keep them away from her.

He had to help them put her back where she belonged.

He felt that he was gaining ground. Actually managed to get closer to where the fight was going to take place.

He could hear Sam screaming his name, but it was hard to comprehend over the screaming in his own mind. There was a scream from Amara and he redoubled his efforts, trying to break the force holding him back.

Someone else screamed and he found the force holding him had lessened making him stumble and fall to his knees on the ground. Light flooded the field from every direction.

“Dean Now!” he heard Sam scream and it took a second for him to remember what he was suppose to be doing. He looked over, dazed and feeling sick, Saw Sam standing with his feet solid on the ground wide apart hand held in front of him, and white light swirling from his palm too bright to look at if he had still been human. Dean raised his own hand felt the surge of something like joy as the light burned through him, and he tried to remember what he was suppose to do. It hit weak and faltered and amara turned on him, her eyes burning in rage, he felt himself crumble under the weight of her gaze, and forgot everything but getting to her.

It was a blur, he was moving toward her. Then Cas was next to him, going past him lightning quick and he felt something pierce through his stomach, low and painful. It sent him to his knees again. He felt like he was dying, something was buried inside his stomach. His hand found a smooth handle of something embedded low in his guts and he pulled it out without thinking. Fire raced down his limbs, through his body and beyond, he felt wings he'd never seen being devoured by flames he couldn't see.

The blade in his hand dripped with his own blood and his pressed his hand to his stomach, felt the pulse of blood pouring from the wound.

He heard as much as felt Amara's scream. The sky cracked with lightening. The ground was scorched and wind rushed past him filling his hearing with the whining howl. There was no water that he felt, but it was like being caught in the eye of a hurricane, the destruction whirled around him, and he could see it, but where he was, felt calm, like he was no longer part of it.

He realized with dawning horror that he was dying. In a field somewhere at the edge of reality, he was bleeding out while his brother fought to save the world. He looked at Sam wanting to have that be the last thing in his eyes, knowing that Sam would be okay with out him.

His brother was too blinding to look at, light and fire came off him in waves whipped by the wind and Dean thought for a fraction of a second he saw wings behind him, beating at the flames at his back, pushing them in swirling patterns up to the sky.

Dean felt despair beating in him, coming through as an unspoken prayer. He followed the feel of it before he lost the connection completely, let the last thing he felt before giving over to that peaceful silence was the screaming of his brother through the last flickers of his borrowed grace.

 

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

When Dean regained awareness, he was still lying in the field, the fire surrounding them still burned the flames licking up toward the sky. He felt hands pressed against his stomach and felt warm spreading out from the touch.

He blinked against the blinding glare of the sun, hanging almost directly above him.

“Did we win?” He asked his voice coming out groggy and distorted to his own hears.

He felt as much as heard his brother's laugh, a relieved desperate sound, “yeah,” he said finally, “it's over,” then the laughter broke into something that sounded like sobs, “they're gone.”

Dean didn't ask who, he could feel the ache where Amara was gone, felt the loss of her as abruptly and painfully as if he'd lost part of himself.

“What happened?” He asked, needing to know how they had won when he was powerless against her.

“I can show you,” Sam whispered, his hand lingered on Dean's stomach a second longer before he felt the power recede and the heat from his brother's hand rested instead against his forehead. Dean saw it play out all over again. This time watching from the outside. He saw the battle between God and Amara raging behind himself as he fought to get to her and Sam and Cas fought to keep him focused. He saw the ground open behind him so close that he was surprised it didn't swallow him.

He saw Cas moving toward him, and it looked like he was being pulled away from the opening crater until he crumpled around the blade. He felt the despair and anguish was through the memory, saw the way he fell and the sky opened around them fueled by Sam's rage and grief. There was a blast of white hot light, and Dean saw Amara and Chuck swallowed by the opened void.

He thought the memory would end there, but it didn't.

Sam's rage turned toward the other angel and Dean saw the surprise on his face. It wasn't so much a fight as one white hot burst of something from Sam that sent him crumbling onto the ground. Dean looked to where he had fallen and saw a body laying there, the other angel's standing between them and it. He didn't ask if Cas was okay, didn't ask if it had been Cas or Lucifer in those final moments. The wound in his gut answered that question for him. He let the memory wash over him, let the knowledge that he was feeling the sheer depth of Sam's care for him sink in. It was like drowning, but it was familiar almost matched note for note in the intensity of his own love for his brother.

Sam stopped sharing the memory, and Dean felt the withdrawal of his touch.

He went instantly cold all over, and goosebumps broke out on his skin, despite the warmth from the fire surrounding them, he felt chilled down to the bone, like he might never be warm again.

Sam's attention was elsewhere. Dean could see on the other side of the fire most of the infected had fled but there were enough people dazed and still lingering at the edge of the field to make it feel like they were surrounded. There was a mild commotion then the crowd was parting for a man with a black suit.

“This is a nice change of pace, normally it's me trapped, and you ” He said from the edge of the fire, “I suppose you'll want out now that the world hasn't ended?” He asked with a bored look on his face.

“Crowley,” Sam said his name with tired exasperation, “just put out the damn fire.”

“Or what? You'll smite me?” He asked with a smile, “not much incentive on my part Moose.” He grinned, “You know I have to say I'm surprised. They'll let anyone be an angel these days.”

Despite what he said the fire flickered down and out.

“You owe me.” The man said, “don't forget that I could have just left you here.” He smiled, “yes, I know, you'll kill me dead, you hate me, you're a broken record, and I'm here to help you since you did just manage to save the universe. Good work.” He said with a wink, then his attention turned to Dean, “Squirrel, looking fresh and youthful as ever.” He was gone just as quickly as he came, which was probably good because Sam was looking particularly murderous.

“Who was that?” Dean asked at last.

“Demon.” Sam said, “Crowley, calls himself the king of hell.”

Sam grabbed Dean and the next second they were standing in the middle of the bunker.. The second they were home Dean saw how strained and pale his brother was. How hard he was fighting to hold it all together.

Dean barely got his arm around him before Sam collapsed against him, his legs no longer taking his weight. “Sammy?” He asked surprised to see how quickly Sam was fading next to him. His grip on Dean's arm was weak and his eyes looked glazed. Dean saw the faint trickle of blood start dripping from his brother's nose. Sam rubbed it away then looked down at his hand and back up at Dean. The look on his face was more horrified than a nose bleed warranted. “I'm sorry,” He whispered, “I wasn't...” whatever else he was going to say was lost when Sam lost consciousness falling dead weight heavy into Dean's arms.

 


	34. Chapter 34

Dean paced through the bunker. It had been almost sixteen hours since Sam had collapsed on him and he had no idea what to do. He didn't know if Sam even would wake up, but he couldn't just take him to the hospital. How would he explain that his brother was an angel and he didn't know if he was even suppose to be breathing or not. He moved through the space they shared, reminding himself again that they made it this far, Sam would be okay. He had to.

The slamming of the front door had him pulling his gun out and aiming it at the too familiar form of the dark haired angel that had buried a blade in his guts less than a day before. He squeezed off a half a dozen shots before the gun was pulled out of his hand and flung across the room.

“Really Dean, you'd think by now you'd have figured out that doesn't work on angels.”

“What do you want?” Dean asked.

“Well telling you would ruin the surprise,” He said softly, “and I really want to surprise you.” he moved closer until Dean was backed against the table, the angel's lips dangerously close to grazing his own when he whispered, “like back in that field, wasn't that a surprise?” His hand brushed against Dean's stomach fingertips grazing the place he had been stabbed. “i mean, my blade slid into you so smoothly I thought that it was a done deal, that there was no way you'd survive that. Of course Sam had to save you, he can't just leave well enough alone.”

“Stay away the hell away from my brother,” Dean said.

“It's not your brother I'm here for Dean, it's you.” He smiled a wicked look that reminded Dean of a wolf, “I already got to Sam, he's broken, completely irreparably, beautifully, but you, you still think you can win.”

His hand landed on Dean's thigh, sliding up dangerously close, “feel that?” He asked softly, “feel that drop in your stomach? How nervous and scared you are? How much you really don't want my hand to move any higher?” He squeezed his thigh and Dean tried to push him off, “i know you feel it, it's written all over that pretty face of yours.”

“I'm going to take everything from you Dean, just like I took everything from your brother, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

 


	35. Chapter 35

Dean wasn't exactly a stranger to the way he was being looked at. The predatory hungry gaze always left a bad taste in his mouth. If anything it was worse when it was coming from a being that could obliterate him with a thought. There was no breath where the lips grazed the side of his cheek, there was no warmth where the hand roamed up his thigh. He pushed away only to feel like he was pushing against a brick wall.

There wasn't enough strength in him to dislodge the angel that seemed intent on feeling him up. Not because it wanted him, but because he couldn't stop it.

There was some creeping fear at the realization he was completely trapped.

“Get off of me.” he said, his voice didn't shake, but it was softer than he meant it.

There was a laugh, “what's the matter? We haven't even gotten to the fun part yet.” Dean felt the chill go through him and took a swing at him, succeeding in doing nothing more than hurting his hand. If trying not shove him off had been like pushing against a wall then the punch had felt like hitting the same wall.

“Come on Dean, a whore like you, this is what you really want. You know that, it's what your buddy Cas wants, even your precious baby brother would fuck you into oblivion given half the chance. You have to know that by now, you're not good for anything else.”

“No offense, but you're not exactly my type.” Dean attempted to put it out smug, despite the fact his heart was racing. There had to be a way out of this, a way to get the angel out of their friend and out of the

“and you're a little short and bitter for mine, but we'll take what we can get.” Dean leaned away from the casual stroke down his neck, “are you a screamer Dean? Are you going to fight me? Sam fought, not that it mattered, but I think I like it better when there's some fight. Not that it's a challenge, but it's just so much more fun sinking into someone whose done everything they can to stop you. It's the sweetest victory.”

A few hours before, before the blade burned through the part of him that for just a few minutes had been an angel, he could have gotten away with a thought, but now, back as he was to human he didn't have the strength to fight an angel and Sam was out of commission, at least until he woke up, and the only friend they still had was buried somewhere in the monster that was tugging at the button on Dean's pants.

“Get the hell away from my brother,”

Dean felt himself relax fractionally at the sound of Sam's voice. Steady and angry, and there. He didn't have time to be embarrassed at his own weakness before he heard the cruel laugh echoing through the room.

“Or what? You can't hurt me Sam, not without hurting Cas. You're barely standing and I feel,” he paused for emphasis, “great. I mean I already won, God is gone, forever, and that was your doing, and you're not exactly necessary anymore. I mean you tore up the rule book, so I'm just doing the same thing.” Dean felt himself pinned to the table, unable to move even as the angel moved away from him, circling Sam. Dean saw the same silver blade slip into his hand, “you know this has been a long time coming. I can't believe I thought I needed you, that I thought being chained to one fragile, breakable human was necessary, I thought you were special, but you're just another mindless ape.” he whispered.

Sam moved between the Angel and Dean. Dean could see the tension in the way he was holding himself, saw how pale his brother looked, but Sam didn't falter.

“You really want to do this?” Lucifer whispered, “I mean come on Sam, you're smarter than this, you know you can't win.”

Sam was silent, and to Dean it was probably the worst thing he could be, there was none of the sarcasm or the anger or anything that he was use to seeing in his brother, he just looked terrified, but he was still standing firm between Lucifer and Dean.

Dean didn't catch the movement but it was less than a heartbeat later that Sam was slammed up against a column his face contorted with some grimace of pain. Dean saw the silver blade his brother had been holding roll across the floor.

“Pathetic really, you're just too slow Sam, too broken, you can't take me, you never could.”

“I already did,” Sam said, and Dean thought he was being incredibly stupid but the smile on his brother's face was borderline maniacal. It was fucking suicide. Dean knew it even if Sam didn't realize it.

In his rage Lucifer's grip on Dean slipped. It wasn't really a thought, Dean was lunging for the blade on the ground as soon as he was able to move. It was in his hand the next minute and buried to the hilt in Lucifer's back the second after that.

Dean saw the sparks of light around the blade as he pulled it out.

He saw the confusion play across his brother's face as the angel fell to the floor at his feet.

Sam followed him down, “Cas?” He whispered, “no, come on buddy, you're going to be okay, just...”

a blinding flash filled the room and Dean was pretty sure he was blind. When his vision cleared Sam was still on the floor, his hands holding onto the angel. Dean saw burned imprints of wings spreading out around them. He saw the burned imprint of feathers across his brother's forearm. The skin was raw and flayed looking over scorched black marks. Sam didn't seem to notice though.

“What did you do?” He asked finally looking up at Dean, “we were suppose to find a way to save him.”

“Lucifer was going to kill you.” Dean said kneeling down next to him, “I'm sorry about Cas, I am, but if I have to choose between maybe finding a way to save him and saving you right now, I'm going to pick you every time.”

 


	36. Chapter 36

Dean pulled his brother away from the boy on the floor wrapping his arms around him and Sam went easily enough, hiding in the hug, making himself smaller than he had any right to be. Sam's hands tangled in his shirt behind Dean's back and pulled him closer. The words _I'm sorry_ were on the tip of his tongue, along with other platitudes that would never make it okay. Dean could feel the wet tears from his brother streaking across his skin and he was struck by how unfair it was. Sam had lost so much that Dean hated being responsible for the grief that he was feeling.

He closed his eyes, and held on tighter giving with his presence what words could never convey. “I have to –” Sam started to pull away, the sentence dropped.

“No,” Dean said, “I'll take care of it, Sammy please, don't do this to yourself.”

Sam looked at him his eyes wet and at the same time harsh, “We could have done something, we could have reached Cas, he would have stopped him.”

“You sure about that?” Dean asked irritated, “it didn't look like he was stopping him from where I was standing.”

“He did before.” Sam said, his voice soft and wrecked.

“Sam come on, you're willing to bet your life and mine on a maybe?”

Sam didn't look at him, instead he walked away before Dean could stop him and knelt back on the floor. His hand lay over the fallen angel's chest. Light swirled downward from his palm. The body lay as still as death without a sign that anything had been done.

Dean saw his brother's eyes slipped closed like he was praying, the light was a little brighter but it stopped sooner. Sam looked up at Dean, the look was begging but Dean didn't know how to help, couldn't have helped even if he wanted to.

He closed them again but this time there was no flare. Sam's shoulder's slumped in defeat and Dean moved toward him, “He couldn't live through that,” Dean whispered, “no one could.”

“I did,” Sam whispered, “just I mean I have to have more power than the average demon or angel right? So I should be able to just bring him back.”

Dean didn't know what to say to that, he was forced to just watch while Sam cried over another lost friend. Tears streaked down his face dropping large and silent staining the beige of his coat a darker brown in splotches. Finally he whispered, “I don't think it works that way with Angels, I think God would have to be the one to do it.”

“We locked him with Amara,” Sam said, “Of course we did. We need him and he's gone again.”

“Sam,” Dean whispered his name, “we'll give Cas a hunter's funeral, okay? Take his ashes somewhere nicer than a bunker in the middle of nowhere, we'll do it the right way.”

Sam nodded but didn't move.

“Come on,” Dean offered his hand and expected Sam to resist it, but he took it and stood.

Dean saw the look cross his brother's face, blank and silent he let Dean lead him from the room. In a linen closet Dean found a white sheet to cover the body with, and returned to the room where their friend lay. Dean couldn't bring himself to look at him. It was part the fact he  had no real memories with Cas all of them were tainted by the violence of the thing that had been possessing him. 

It wasn't until he handed the other corner of the cloth to Sam that he caught sight of the burns on his brother's arm again. His breath hissed through his teeth in sympathetic pain, but Sam didn't seem to be bothered by them. Sam leaned down and kissed the mop of black hair before pulling the sheet completely over him.

Dean felt the prickle of unease seeing the casual affection. Remembered again that ti had been Lucifer controlling the body at the end not Cas. He didn't tell Sam that though, let him deal with his grief however he felt he needed to.

When they were done, Sam lifted him and carried the body into his own room laying it on his bed.

Dean left him long enough to go find a first aid kit. Sam was still standing in the doorway leaning against the frame like he was having trouble standing.

“Let me see your arm.” Dean ordered not bothering to ask when he took his brother's hand and led him down the hall to his own room.

“Sit” Dean ordered and half expected Sam to balk at the command, but he didn't. He sank down on the mattress his fingertips tracing over the raw flesh like he was noticing it for the first time.

Dean could see the imprint of individual feathers burned there, and if it wasn't obviously something that had to hurt like hell it was almost pretty.

“You okay?” He asked smearing thick burn cream over his skin, “we should probably to a doctor.”

“No.” Sam said quietly, “we have more important things to do.”

“Sam, if that gets infected. –”

“It isn't going to kill me,” Sam said, “I mean nothing short of an angel blade is going to manage that now, so I'm pretty well as safe as I'm ever going to be.”

“What I don't get,” Dean whispered, “When he stabbed me, that should have killed me. Why didn't it?”

“You're human.” Sam said softly, “Cas was just an angel. It isn't the wound that kills it's the blade.” His thumb was trailing over a black ridge in the middle of a feather, “I mean it burned through your grace, but it wasn't a fatal wound, not for you. I healed it. And you're okay, Cas...” he stopped his tears falling down onto his own abused skin. “Cas just burned out. Angel's don't have souls.”

Dean waited until Sam moved his hand to finish covering the burn, he wrapped white gauze around it, felt that it wasn't enough, that he should have been able to do more. He packed everything back into the kit, and was going to put it up when Sam said his name.

He looked back and saw the hint of a smile, “we won.” Sam whispered.

Dean tried to smile back, somehow it didn't feel like winning. He closed his eyes against the weird prickling of tears that started there. Amara was gone, and with her the influence she had on him, but he still felt odd thinking about her. Something deep and instinctual and completely out of his control felt like he was drowning, like he'd lost some piece of himself he hadn't even realized he had. He'd just been too busy to notice it, now though, in the quiet at the place just past the end of the world, he ached with the loss of the bond.

 


	37. Chapter 37

Sam was quiet while they worked dragging dead wood into a funeral pyre. There was a girl there Sam had picked up from somewhere. She was just a kid  and Dean didn't recognize her at all, but she knew Sam and after making some comment to Dean about him not looking bad for an old guy she settled into a quiet sulk somewhere at the edge of the clearing. Watching them work.

Sam disappeared sometime about half way through showing up with bundles of something that looked like grass to Dean. He spread it over the branches. Dean started to go for the gas can when Sam stopped him, “we're going to use this,” he said holding up a stone jar.

“What the hell is that?” Dean asked lifting the lid off it to smell the spicy scented contents, it was the same stuff they'd made the circle with. He had no doubts that it would burn.

The next time Sam disappeared he came back holding the body wrapped in linen. There was a certain amount of power in the way he moved, like he was doing his best to hold it all together.

Dean watched him land on top of the pyre and Cas in the space. In a blink he was back at Dean's side.

Dean heard the hitched breath from the girl and she pressed her self against Sam's side, Dean could see the way that Sam wrapped his arms around her pulled her in closer and told her that Cas had saved the world.

Dean didn't correct him. Didn't say anything while he struck a pack of matches and lit a makeshift torch.

“Let me,” the girl whispered and he shrugged handing over the stick of wood. She pressed it against the bottom of the stack of wood an it lit instantly engulfing the entire pyre in a heartbeat.

The smell of lavender came before the smell of burning flesh. Dean stood still, the light breeze pushed the smoke around them it was choking but still thin ribbons of black lifted up toward the endless blue of the sky.

It was a long time before they moved, the girls tears and occasionally Sam's broke the silence, but mostly they stood watch while the flames engulfed their friend. Taking the last traces of him from the world.

When the fire had died down and the sun was sinking behind the trees Dean heard Sam offer to take the girl home. She nodded and they were gone just like that. Sam was back before Dean had time to miss him.

The embers still glowed in the failing light.

“You okay?” Sam asked him and Dean turned toward him to see the sincerity on his face.

Dean shrugged, “It's not like I remembered being friends with him.”

Sam's hand grabbed his own. Dean felt the edge of the gauze that was still around his wrist and closed his eyes. Not thinking too much about anything just letting the smell of lavender and oil with the undertone of something less pleasant wrap around them. He felt like he could sleep for a damn year and still be exhausted.

“I have an idea,” Sam said at last, “I mean I'm not sure if it will work, and even if it does I can't promise it will work completely but when you touched Lisa's mind, you got all of her memories of you. I'll give you what I can remember.”

Dean wasn't sure it'd work he'd been trying to reach into her mind not the other way around, but if Sam thought that it might work it was at least worth giving it a shot.

“Okay,” he said softly, “but just try not to explode my brain with the hell stuff.”

“Promise.” Sam without meeting his eyes.

 


	38. Chapter 38

Fear was not just a familiar feeling for Dean. It was practically an old friend. He spent most of his life feeling it and most of his life hiding it behind a grin and a joke. Most of the time though he knew exactly what he was afraid of. The monster they wouldn't see coming. His dad not coming home from a hunt. Getting picked up by the cops. Anything, he knew those fears they came with the job. He'd gotten so good at sublimating those fears into sex and alcohol pouring himself into both to keep from digging too deep into the constant almost panic he knew he should be feeling.

Now though, he was stone cold sober, and sex was out of the question. He was almost terrified and the worst part of it was he couldn't have pinpointed exactly what he was afraid of even if he was asked. He was terrified of what was to come, to see exactly what all they'd lost over the years. If he could have backed out of it in that second he would have. Sam was watching him like he was wanting him to back out also. Like he didn't want Dean to know anymore than Dean wanted to know, but he had made the offer and Dean had accepted it and now there was just the doing it left.

They were sitting in a motel room. Which did not bode well for what was to come. There was an excuse made for why they didn't want to stay in the bunker. The excuse being Sam needed to get the hell out of it after Cas died there. It was an excuse Dean didn't buy, but he could place the reason for that no more than he could place the reason for his fear.

The room was the same as a million other rooms, the back drops for the insanity that was their lives. It was almost comforting in the way it never changed even though the details were always slightly different.

 _Different dressing, same set._ The thought did nothing to ease his nerves, but it did make everything kind of take on a surreal edge. For a half a second he thought about Sam asking him to kiss him again when it was all over. He wondered if this counted as being over, found himself wondering what his brother would do if he just leaned forward a few inches and closed that distance.

It didn't feel over though, not that he would have done it anyways, but to Dean it still felt like the world was ending and this might just be the punchline no one told him was coming.

It was a dark thought that he pushed out of his mind as soon as it came, along with any thoughts of bringing back up that moment, he did wonder if Sam was better now or if he was still half crazy. The worst part, Dean didn't really know, Sam was quiet but he couldn't tell if it was grief quite or if he was having trouble telling reality from false memories. Dean shifted awkwardly, farther away from his brother, the last thing he wanted was Sam in his mind if his brother wasn't able to tell the difference. “so get this over with,” He said, keeping those fears to himself.

Sam opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. Like he wanted to ask Dean not to. Instead he closed his mouth and nodded. His hand moved toward Dean's face with the same surreal slow movement that made it feel like time was standing still.

Dean's breath stuck in his lungs when his brother's hand finally landed feather light on his skin. Sam's thumb trailed over his cheek, and Sam gave him a sad smile, “I'm sorry.” He said a few heartbeats later.

“For what?” Dean asked terrified that Sam had tried and failed and he hadn't even noticed it happening. He felt the thump of his own heart against his ribs, not sure if it was relief or disappointment.

He almost missed the light flare in his brother's eyes.

By the time it registered he was beyond the ability to care.

 


	39. Chapter 39

It started slow a flash of a memory, bright in the eye of his mind. Dean sitting in the driver seat like always and Sam was next to him. They weren't moving, just sitting talking, the memory faded and was overwhelmed by fights, by screaming, by a hundred hunts and moments Dean never would have even remembered happening. It was all flooding into him at once before he could even begin to make sense of it. A few memories came in clearer, brighter than the rest. Like they were things that Sam held onto more tightly than everything else. He saw a car wreck, saw his brother screaming at his dad to do something to save him, and saw his dad dead on the floor. He found out about the deal that way and it was enough to make him crumble and beg for it to stop. He remembered Sam telling him a heart attack even as Sam's own memory filled his head of them finding out that his dad had sold his soul so Dean could live.

He was left gasping too hurt to even begin to process it as more memories layered in on top of the one that had ripped the foundation out from underneath him. There was a flash of some hunt where the town was cut off from the outside world and Sam was dying on him. But he didn't. The memory that followed was jumps of hunts, kids all connected by fate and tragedy. The memories didn't explain the way they were colored with an almost sadness. It felt like a church on a Monday morning. reverent but cold. The flood slowed down again and Dean found a much younger version of his brother, a much more familiar version asking how long he got. The answer was there in his mind as clearly as if he could remember it. The details were fuzzy but the more Sam's memories impressed on him the more clear things got.

It was like he was imagining what had been done and was rebuilding his own version from them. It was worse because he didn't know if he was getting back his own memories or a reconstruction of Sam's to fit his own point of view. Either way the result was the same, somehow Sam had died and Dean had sold his soul to save him.

He felt like he should have known, like even without the memories something that big should have somehow stuck with him.

Dean saw his own grief through his brother's eyes. Saw how hard he pushed away and how hard he tried to bury himself long before he made it to his grave. It was a nightmare he couldn't get away from and then he heard himself. His voice echoing in his own head. “If I didn't know you I would want to hunt you.” Everything in him screamed no that he couldn't have meant that that there had to be something else to it. He'd never mean something like that.

Another moment he heard another echo of his past, he missed the first part but it got clearer, “Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you, I'm giving you fair warning, I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster Sam.” It picked up again repeated over and over to an infinity echoed through his head until he felt like screaming from it there were other memories but whatever was said was lost under those few words echoing. Whether that was Sam's doing or his own mind getting stuck on the words he didn't know couldn't tell. The memory was cloaked in a sick twist of shame and despair, Other images came to him, Sam locked in a metal room, screaming his name and he didn't know where he was but he couldn't get to him, couldn't stop him. Another flash and Sam was tied to a chair, “I think I need help.” he saw the blood on his brother's face and his heart stopped, where some of the memories were colored by emotion this one was clear, Sam had nothing attached to it one way or another. Just another fact, Dean felt his own fist connect with his brother's face. It wasn't like they never fought, but it wasn't explained, and Sam offered him nothing. He wondered if maybe Sam had been possessed by something, if maybe that was why the memory was so devoid of emotional color. But Sam offered him nothing but the memories and then things were coming out quickly moments that didn't make any sense, things that were strung together, jumps that felt like they were out of sink in time, Things Dean could remember from before the point the spell took him back to, things that were in a warped altered version of reality the walls in the memories looked like paintings, flat and two dimensional, people that were talking and not making any damn sense. Dean felt like he was drowning. Saw his brother dressed in white scrubs but he didn't seem to be in the memory. Dean realized that Sam had been looking at his own reflection in a pane glass window that Dean was seeing Sam through his own eyes in a memory that Dean wasn't part of. He tried to stop him, to tell him to take a break but it felt like they'd both lost control and everything was spiraling downward at once. To some catastrophic moment that Dean could feel coming, whatever was at the center of the broken edges he could feel in his brother. And as much as he wanted to help, he didn't want to know, didn't think he could survive knowing.

It was almost wrenching when the cascade of memories settled and he was back standing in a stone cell with his brother.

“This isn't real,” He whispered trying to get Sam's attention, saw himself though moving through shadows of the room circling his brother.

“Sam listen to me, you have to stop this it never happened.” The words were swallowed and almost in he heard again the echo of his own voice, “you're a monster” over and over and over nothing else those three words.

He screamed for his brother to just hear him, to put a stop to this memory or whatever it was. He didn't think Sam could hear him. He closed his eyes to keep from having to watch it happen, but the image was still there in the back of his retinas as much as it was happening in front of him. He tried to move between the skewed altered version of himself and his brother but the image moved through him like he wasn't there. Sam was pushed back against the stone wall and Dean heard the air push out of his lungs, heard his brother whisper his name surprised and tired.

Dean screamed and yelled and it did him not one damn bit of good. Sam either couldn't hear him or wasn't listening. Both thoughts were terrifying in themselves. It was one thing to be told what Sam would remember without details it was a complete different thing to be forced to take a front row seat while a fictionalized version of himself took advantage of his little brother.

After the first time the following memories were quick glimpses and glimmers fading as quickly as they came, all had the same gist to them and he didn't have to look to closely to get the point. Hundreds of different moments played out in the course of a few seconds.

Dean's voice echoing over them that Sam was a monster. It wasn't true, it had never been true, he didn't need anything else to know just by being around his brother it was true. Sam was willing to push himself to the point of collapse to save people. To run into situations where the only possible outcome was dying to protect them. How could he ever believe something like that?

And yet....

Dean heard it again, his own voice harsh and full of malice and it was all the answer that he needed. Sam believed it because Dean had said it. Even if Dean himself had never said it, he believed it.

Dean was still trying to reach Sam resorting to literally praying Sam would hear him and snap out of whatever the hell this was. When he heard his own name. Not from the air or from Sam, but from Gabriel. Standing in the middle of the chaos the memories swirled around him and he paid them less than no attention his eyes on Dean.

“Dean, buddy, next time you think you should let the crazy person mind meld with you do me a favor. Don't! This kind of thing should really come with a trigger warning.” Gabriel grabbed Dean's arm, “come on, let's get out of here before you crack to.”

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I watched Tall Tales, Mystery Spot, Changing Channels, and Hammer of the Gods before writing this chapter. It's as close to Gabe as I can get it and it still feels ooc to me.

Dean was never so glad to see a crap motel room in his life. Gabriel on the other hand looked at the place with complete disgust. “you know you'd think if you're going to be robbing people to pay for a place anyways you could at least pick a five star hotel or something.

Dean didn't justify it with an answer. They only took what they needed and only spent it in places that paid their bills by not looking too closely at the people checking in. Sam was spread awkwardly across the bed his feel still on the floor, Dean stood up and tried to see if he was at least still breathing.

He was getting so sick of Sam losing consciousness and it was even worse when he knew what Sam was reliving inside his own mind.

Gabriel kicked sat back on the chair and propped his feet up on the table, crossing his hands on his stomach. “So, let's talk magic. Specifically let's talk about this spell thing you've got going on because I find it almost poetic. Like someone had a bone to pick with you, I guess you could have done it yourself, but you don't really seem the type to try to recapture your misspent youth. You have to admit the timing was interesting though.”

Dean didn't have the time or the energy to figure out what the angel wanted and they might have just saved the world together, and he might have just pulled Dean out of whatever the hell that thing Sam dragged him into was, but that was about as civil as he was going to get. “As fascinating as I'm finding this conversation, can you help Sam?”

“Do I look like a psychologist to you?” He asked, “No, well maybe, I don't know. I'm not interested in taking another look at the minefield Lucifer left behind. I mean you really had no clue what you were risking did you? Messing with memories and fabricating experiences is tricky, I mean I've been doing it since the beginning of time and I still screw up sometimes.” He shook his head, “I mean it was just fucking syrup,” he shook his head, “never mind, just it's complicated on a quantum level, so you to just decide you're going to give it a test run on each other, with the crack in Sam's sanity that's been threatening to swallow him whole for like years now? Come on Dean, you're smarter than that.”

“How did you even find us?” Dean asked, not addressing the attack on his intelligence. 

“Please, you think I haven't made it my business to keep track of exactly where you two are since Crawford Hall?” He shrugged, and spread his arms wide, “you asked for help, here I am.”

Dean waited for the punchline to come, waited for him to say psyche or do anything instead there was silence for a few seconds.

“Fine, just let's deal with you first. That spell work is really something else.” He looked at Dean a little too closely for Dean's comfort, “Right, we should go.”

“Go where?” Dean asked surprised by the change in plans. 

“Your not so secret super secret club house.” He said, “come on, grab him, there's no way I'm doing the heavy lifting here.”

The step between the bed and the bunker almost knocked Dean off balance but Gabriel was there rolling his eyes and catching them both. They got Sam somewhat safely moved to Dean's room.

Gabriel turned for the door, “Right so, I'm going to really look around, you don't touch anything while I'm gone.”

“I live here.” Dean said, following him into the library.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Gabriel muttered, he kept his eyes where he was going, but seemed sure that Dean kept following him, “and somehow while living here, you managed to get a decade sucked off your life, my money is on something here. Unless you have a better idea, and I'd really prefer if you didn't go setting off any of the magic cursed items in this place just because you're too damn stupid to realize half the stuff in here could kill you with a touch, _or worse_ under the right circumstances.”

“It's not that bad,” Dean said.

“Really?” Gabriel pointed at a sword in a display, “see that? Cursed.”

Dean asked, “cursed how?”

“Summons a tentacled monster.” Gabriel said off handed the look almost challenging Dean to test it.

“Bullshit.” Dean muttered.

“Okay, you don't believe me, go ahead. Grab it.” Gabriel said not looking at Dean instead going over covers of books that both Dean and Sam had already read cover to cover.

Dean thought about grabbing the sword, weighted the two choices, then took a half a step away from the display, he did not need know for sure, at least he didn't want to find out he was wrong.

“Oh, so now you _don't_ want to touch it?” Gabriel said rolling his eyes, “Tell you not to touch anything you want to touch things, I tell you to touch something you don't want to touch it. It's like you're just trying to be difficult.”

Dean saw Gabriel pull a book from the shelf and toss it onto the table. He didn't have a chance to look at it before another one joined it. Dean started to reach for the book to see what it was. “I wouldn't touch anything on that table.” Gabriel said from somewhere on the other side of the room, “I mean you can if you really want, and some of it might be pretty funny, but consider it the _do not touch_ pile.”

it took a while but eventually the pile on the table threatened to spill over onto the floor, Dean kept checking back in on Sam to find him pretty much the same each time.

“Come on,” he muttered, “you can't do this a little faster.”

“I'm sorry, are you in some kind of a hurry/” Gabriel asked, “Fine you sort through all the potential causes of your problem and then get back to me when you're ready to talk.”

“Wait,” Dean said, terrified the angel was going to disappear on him. “Just how can I help?”

“You can't,” Gabriel said, then winked, “but I know what can make this better.”

Dean found himself pushed into a chair by a very hungry looking blond.

“Man I like your style,” Dean said begrudging as some obnoxious music picked up from somewhere and the lights dimmed.

 


	41. Chapter 41

Dean was at least half sure the girl was just there to distract him. He really didn't mind the distraction, the weight of a warm body straddling his lap was pretty much heaven after all the shit that he'd dealt with recently, but it felt wrong enough he couldn't just enjoy it. He lifted her off of him and put her feet back on the floor, “Sorry, but rain check.” He said.

The walk down the hall back to check on Sam felt like walking to his own gallows. How was Sam even still alive, the number of times in the past week alone that he'd been knocked out was ridiculous. The bedroom was quiet. Sam was silent and Dean took up his spot of vigil next to the bed where he belonged. It was the first moment's he'd been alone since Gabriel had pulled him from the nightmare playing out In Sam's head and he wanted more than anything to pull his brother out of it to make it okay.

Some half forgotten impulse had him reaching for his brother's hand and tangling their fingers together, “I'm here Sammy,” Dean whispered to his too still form. “I'm going to be right here waiting for you, world's not ending, got no where else to go.”

The quiet was reflective and he played through the memories Sam had shared before getting caught up in spiraling out of control. Picking through them there was a lot of bad, the story kind of sorted itself out in his head, but it wasn't quite the same thing with Lisa. Maybe because with Lisa it had felt like getting his own memories back, with Sam it felt like he was drowning in someone else's version of him. And he didn't like what he saw.

Sam had a lot of memories of him that were pure violence. It felt different from the normal violence of sibling fights. It felt like Sam had seen his violence differently, like it was some testament to how dean saw Sam instead of the truth being Dean lashed out, when he was scared, when he was angry, he lashed out and Sam caught the brunt of it. He knew that, hell he'd always known it. It was part of being an older brother, part of being the child of a soldier, part of trying so hard to keep it together for everyone else sometimes eh forgot himself.

Sam needed better from him, but he couldn't give it. Hell if he thought it'd snap him out fo it Dean would swing on him now, even as he was lost in his own head.

“I'm going to fix this,” Dean said for what felt like the millionth time, and he hoped that he was right. That Gabriel found whatever he was looking for and they could fix the spell on Dean before Sam woke up, so he could at least be able to tell Sam that he was sorry and have all of the context the way that it should have been.

He wondered away only long enough to find a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. He filled the glass and lifted it, “Here's to us,” he said before tossing back the liquor.

“Dude you need to wake the fuck up. Drinking alone is depressing.” Dean didn't have time to really dwell on it before he was called back to the other room.

“So I'm pretty sure that it's something in this pile of crap.”Gabriel muttered.

“Pretty sure?” Dean asked looking at the stack of books, artifacts, and random junk that seemed to be spilling over the table onto the floor. “So how do we narrow it down?”

“I thought we'd just burn all of it and see what happens.” Gabriel suggested, “or we can actually try to figure out which thing is actually causing you're whole” he gestured vaguely in dean's direction, “problem” He looked annoyed, “but that would be time consuming and I've got a beach and a brunette waiting for me.”

“Burn it,” Dean said, “but what happens if it's not a burn it kind of solution?”

“you put off retirement by another decade?” Gabriel suggested helpfully.

 


	42. Chapter 42

Regardless of what he had suggested Gabriel actually started sorting through the various potentially cursed items he'd found. Dean wasn't much help but occasionally he'd pick something up study it intensely looking between the items and Dean. A much smaller pile ended up being made on the floor by the table.

Dean grew more anxious as a few things were put back up, deemed safe. Or at least safe enough not to have on lock down. A few other things were moved into curse boxes. A very few were set aside to actually be burned. Things that Dean for the most part thought seemed harmless enough but Gabriel seemed to see something when looking at them that he didn't like.

There wasn't an explanation offered for any of it and the angel answered most of Dean's questions with glares that made him wonder if he could really trust him at all.

“Be still,” He was ordered and it caught him completely by surprise, he hadn't been told to do anything really but there was a definite purpose in the way the angel moved now. He grabbed Dean's wrist with one hand. His other hand was still wrapped tight around something small enough Dean couldn't even tell what it was. There was light sparks through the tips of his fingers but Dean felt nothing from it. When Gabriel opened his other hand there was nothing in it but a film of fine white ash.

“Feel any different?” Gabriel asked him.

Dean didn't think so, he shook his head. He thought that it would come to him in a rush, the way Sam's memories had flooded through him. There was a new familiarity to the angel though and Dean felt a rush of joy and annoyance at it. “I know you.” He said, “you turned my brother into a car.”

Gabriel smiled, “i thought you'd appreciate that, the two things you love the most combined into one bad ass ride, pretty cool right?”

“Don't fuck with my car.” Dean said irritated.

“Yeah, but you remembered, so see – helping.” He moved back to the pile of stuff. “what else do you remember.”

Dean didn't know how he was suppose to do that. He followed the knowledge that was associated with the memory of Sam talking to him through the impala's speakers. It wasn't like reliving it, wasn't like with Lisa, or the whirlwind of crazy Sam tried to pour into his mind, it was just something he knew, like he'd always known it, like it was part of him. He was too busy thinking about the how to really focus on what he was suppose to be doing.

It was a few minutes before everything seemed to click into place, all of it was there and as the knowledge of everything slowly settled in his mind he felt the air go out of him. He had fucked everything up so irreversibly. It was like a familiar weight settled over him, one he'd been without so long he felt crushed underneath it as he took stock of all the moments that he'd forgotten.

“There's the look I was expecting,” Gabriel said smiling at him,

Dean had been expecting to get some memory of how the change had happened of doing something that wiped his memories, but there was nothing. He remembered drinking in the library pouring over dry boring lore about the end of the world looking for something to save Cas and beat Amara, he remembered going to bed feeling more lost and confused than he'd felt in years, and he had woken up with it all wiped away. There wasn't anything in what he did remember to explain it away.

Dean's breath caught in the back of his throat, Cas was gone, they'd failed to save him, not because they'd failed but because Dean had been the one to kill him.

The ground slid out from under him as his legs couldn't support him anymore. Cas had been like a brother to him, had saved him countless times, had defied everything he'd ever believed in for Dean, and Dean had been the one to kill him.

He couldn't breath, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but hear his own scream of Denial in his head. He couldn't have, he wouldn't have, but he did. Dean was familiar with loss, familiar with grief, and this was different compatible only to the loss of Sam in it's intensity and Sam was his soulmate.

The ache that he had assumed was the bond with Amara intensified to the point it was overwhelming. His vision turned black around the edges and he was either going to pass out or throw up. He had killed Cas. Every thought in his head narrowed down to a denial. Everything in him screamed out against the knowledge. It was the second worst thing he could imagine. The first being what he had seen in Sam's head. What Sam was probably still seeing and experiencing.

It was the last thought before he felt a hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him upright, another landed on his face and he had a half a second panic not knowing what was going on before he fell into something deeper than sleep but not quite the relief that death would have been.

 


	43. Chapter 43

Dean blinked against a blinding sun reflecting off a lake. He hurt everywhere. He was lying on the boards of a dock and he could feel the way it rocked against the soft waves of the water.

He dragged himself to his feet. The green cooler they'd had since they were kids was at the end of the dock, a fishing pole was propped up against it, the line almost invisible against the water, but a little ways out he could see the red and white bobber floating on the surface.

He was drawn toward the water, knew he needed to see himself, see if he was back to who he was suppose to be, but he was scared to look, afraid that what he saw looking back at him wouldn't be himself.

He knelt at the edge of leaned over and saw himself looking back up, the lines around his eyes were familiar and the tired hard set to his jaw reminded him of his dad. It wasn't something he normally did anymore comparing himself to John. But it felt right, felt like an acknowledgment that there was a lot of pain that led them down the road they followed.

“Hello Dean,” the gravel in the voice had his heart threatening to stop before it picked back up. He turned slowly, expecting Cas to be gone by the time he turned around.

He was still standing there though, and Dean didn't know what to say. _I'm sorry_ was painfully inadequate. Instead he asked the question he was most afraid to hear the answer to; “Are you real?” The words hung between them a long time.

Instead of answering Cas sat down next to him, his reflection in the water next to Deans. They wavered and broke with each swell of the water. It was almost hypnotic to watch.

The silence stretched out and Dean waited for some sign of how Cas was, what he was thinking, if this was a dream or a haunting or what. Finally Cas looked at him and Dean could see pain in the expression. “Are you okay?” Cas asked him at last.

“Am I okay?” Dean asked stunned at how absolutely irrelevant the question was. What did it matter if Dean was okay? “You're dead, who care's if I'm okay or not.”

“I care.” Cas said. The words held the promise of more to come, but he didn't elaborate. “How's Sam?” He asked then looked back out over the water.

Dean followed the direction of his gaze. Like the opposite shoreline would hold the answers he didn't have. “I don't know,” He admitted with a tired sigh, "I mean he took it pretty hard when – ” Dean gestured at him unable to put the words to the event. “and then, well we made some mistakes, so I'm just waiting, the waiting is probably going to kill me.”

“You'll be fine Dean.” Cas said gently, “you're strong enough to make it without us.”

“I don't want to.” Dean denied quickly.

“I know,” the answer was so easy, so final, so impossible to argue that Dean tried to find some way to explain.

Cas didn't wait for him to form his argument, “but you'll be okay, you have a purpose Dean, you only have to be alone if you choose to.”

“You can't leave me,” Dean whispered, “not after everything we've been through, and Sam,” he laughed bitterly, “I would burn the world just to keep him with me, I'd slaughter anyone just to keep him safe, and I failed so completely. The things that have been done to him on my watch...” Dean shivered against the chill the memory brought, “I failed.”

“You didn't fail. You're not responsible for things that are out of your control. I wish someone could make you see that, but it won't be me.” He sighed, “The good thing about you is that you don't give up on people, but sometimes you have to learn to let them go, even if you love them. It's time Dean.”

“Why would you say that?” Dean demanded climbing to his feet feeling the need to throw a punch to make him take it back.

“Because it's true,” Cas answered softly, “it's been time for a long time, if this is it, if this is the moment we part for the last time, then I can't go until I know you're going to be okay, I need to know you're going to let me go.”

“Are you going to haunt me if I don't?” Dean asked, “I thought angel's don't have souls.”

Cas didn't answer for a long time Dean thought he might not answer at all. “I'm not going to tell you to take care of Sam, I know you will. But try to take care of yourself also. Don't beat yourself up over this. It's not your fault.”

“Cas Please, just tell me, is this really you?”

“Who else would it be?” He asked sounding irritated, “I have to go soon,” He said looking past Dean back toward the land, “I just wanted to make sure you understand. I forgave you, try to forgive yourself.”

Dean couldn't say anything else before Cas was gone completely leaving Dean alone with the ache of the broken bond.

 


	44. Chapter 44

Dean woke up quickly, when he came to, lying in his own bed his entire body turned toward the form of his brother. For a second he thought Sam was still sleeping. Then he noticed that his eyes were open, staring silently at the ceiling.

“You with me?” Dean asked.

“I think so,” Sam answered immediately and Dean sank into the relief of it. Too afraid to move that anything he did would cause another break.

Sam rolled toward him studying Dean's face like it was a problem he was trying to figure out. “You look like you've aged a decade since the last time I saw you.”

Dean laughed relieved to hear him joking, “Still look better than you,” Dean reminded him. He felt the urge to get up, but stronger was the urge to stay next to his brother and see for sure that he was okay.

Sam grabbed his wrist. And Dean felt the tremble in his hand the way he fought not to pull back away. It was such a little thing, something that had been done a million times over the course of their lives. Dean let the single point of contact stay until Sam relaxed fractionally. His brother's voice came out rough and pleading, “I'm trying Dean, I swear I'm trying.”

Dean knew it, could tell by the fact Sam was even willing to reach toward him that he was trying to push past the horrors in his head.

“Alright, I'm starving, let's go get some food.”

“Dean,” Sam said his name with something close to annoyance.

“Oh right, angel boy doesn't eat anymore,” he made a show of grinning, “well it's not like you were eating anything but rabbit food anyways so no real loss right?”

Sam said his name again and Dean turned toward him. “What happened?” Sam asked at last, “how'd you break the spell?”

“I didn't,” Dean answered, “Gabriel did something and voila, back to my ruggedly handsome self, memories in tact and everything.”

“Gabriel?” Sam asked, “Why? He hates us.”

“I never said that,” Gabriel said from the door.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Dean asked.

“No, well not technically, Angelic hearing, heard you wake up, thought you might need a minute.” He seemed sincere, but Dean knew better than to trust him.

“What did you do?” Sam asked looking at Gabriel.

Gabriel smiled, “it wasn't a spell for one, and it wasn't something Dean did, at least not on purpose.”

Sam looked relieved but skeptical. About the time Dean thought he wasn't going to elaborate Gabriel held out his hand, in the middle of it was a small greenish rock that had a faint glow beneath the surface, “there's a box of about half a dozen of these bad boys in there. Every one of them is a potential nightmare.”

“what is it.” Sam asked reaching for the rock.

“Kryptonite” Dean said, “well that's great if superman shows up.”

“Cintamini,” Gabriel answered casting dean an look that was a close cousin to Cas' annoyed squint. and palmed the stone before Sam could touch it. “wish granting rocks basically. I mean they're rare, and for the most part the wishes they grant are harmless, food, clothes, warmth, shelter basic needs types wishes. But sometimes one of them latches onto something someone wants more than they want basic necessities and then things get interesting.” He gestured to Dean, “like a hunter trying to wish away the past ten years of their life.”

“I don't make wishes.” Dean said, “we know better than that.”

“You didn't have to, it's not what you say, it's what you feel.” Gabriel said.

“What are you still doing here?” Sam asked and Dean realized his brother was focusing on the angel to keep from focusing on Dean there was an intensity in the way he intentionally wasn't looking at Dean. Like he couldn't stand to even catch a glimpse from his peripheral.

“Came to get you,” Gabriel said finally, “we've still got a job to do. Remember?”

Sam nodded and stood up, the steel of his resolve shook Dean.

“Where are you going?” Dean demanded, before the words had time to register.

“Heaven.” Sam said, “I guess.”

“You can't.” Dean said abruptly, Sam was still broken and tired and needed to rest, he didn't need to be leaving just because Gabriel said so, “I need you here, with me. You can't leave, not after everything.”

“It's not forever Dean, I'll be back before you even know I'm gone,” Sam said, but he didn't seem to believe his words any more than Dean did.

“Time to let go Dean.” Gabriel said.

 


	45. Chapter 45

Dean counted the hours Sam was gone. Not that he'd ever admit it. But he did. The days his brother was away from him was added to a running tally in his head. It started when they were kids. Not intentionally just because one day he realized he had an exact count of how many days they'd spent apart. So he added to it. Two weeks when Sam was in Flagstaff, years he was in school, the year Dean spent with Lisa, the time Dean had been Dead, and the time he was a demon. Sometimes he'd have to do some math, but he was pretty confident the numbers were accurate. Dean counted each day adding it to the total. And each time he had to adjust his count he got a little more anxious.

He needed to know that Sam was okay. Needed to know that whatever he was doing he was going to come back in one piece He didn't trust angel's either. Sam being with them actually scared the hell out of him.

It wasn't until the news reports started coming in. Dean tracked his brother the way he had tracked Cas during his brief stint as god. One story of miracles at a time.

Dean about choked to death laughing listening to the woman recounting how Christ had answered her prayers. The picture her home security camera picked up though, was definitely Sam.

“If you just let me cut it, you wouldn't have this problem.” Dean told the empty air. It sent another bolt of pain through him remembering again that Sam wasn't there to hear his jokes. It was enough enough to imagine the way he would look at him. Of course whether that would be annoyed, or a begrudging laugh Dean wasn't a hundred percent sure. If he had to bet though he'd go with the look of feigned annoyance then he'd smile when he thought Dean wasn't looking anymore. Like Dean didn't know when he did something like that.

Dean wasn't really paying that much attention to what else was going on in the world. Started his day by searching for miracles, ended it the same way, some hint to where Sam was and that he was okay, that he had made it through another day with the winged squad.

That he was at least still doing good.

Dean on the other hand hadn't really left the bunker for anything but food and whiskey since he'd been gone. With Sam zipping around answering everyone's prayers there wasn't a lot that Dean could do in comparison.

Still he was getting antsy sitting around waiting for some word, that Sam was okay, or that he wasn't or for him to come home like he promised he would. His first stop, the one that he'd been putting off for longer than he meant to, was the hardest one to make. He walked out of the bunker, under a blistering June sun. Intending on hitchhiking to Topeka to catch a bus. It wasn't at all the way he wanted to travel, but he needed to get his car back the sooner the better.

 

* * *

 

Dean rolled into town in the early morning hours. He was half afraid what he would find when he showed up on Lisa's doorstep.

It was at least easy to know he was in the right place. The impala sat under a carport. He opened the door and spent a few moments sitting in the drivers seat his hand flexing around the familiar grip of the steering wheel.

“I know you're not thinking about hot wiring your own car,” Lisa asked dangling the keys over the open door frame to him.

“Just working up my courage,” he said and it was true, but he kind of had been thinking about hot wiring the car rather than facing them again.

“Come inside Dean, have some coffee, let's talk.”

“You want to talk to me? After everything?”

“Well, looks like you saved the world again, so yeah, I think that warrants at the very least a cup of coffee.” Her smile looked forced, but he thought the sentiment behind it was probably real.

“I can't stay long,” He said, “I got a job lined up.”

She nodded, “come on,” then started toward the house, not bothering to look over her shoulder to see if he was following her.

The house was smaller than the one they had together, he saw the pictures on the walls were mostly art prints, very few of them were personal pictures where it had seemed most of the shots they had framed were pictures of family.

She led the way to the kitchen and pulled out a couple mismatched coffee cups from the cabinet. He opened his mouth to ask her how she'd been but she cut him off.

“Don't apologize to me.” The tone was warning and he could hear the anger in her voice.

“Okay,” he said, but now that she'd mentioned it the urge to do exactly that was planted pretty deep in him.

“I'm not going to ask you to explain why you thought it would be okay, I'm not going to ask you what you were thinking, and I'm not going to tell you it's okay, so anything you say will only be to make yourself feel better. You can spare me your ego.” She said, “if you were sorry for what you did, you would have came back before the memory wipe.”

“I was trying to keep you safe.” He said, “that's all, you were safer without me around.”

“Well, then I guess I'm lucky you lost your memory. How long would you have left me there because you thought I was safer? Forever?”

He didn't have an answer, and especially didn't have one that he thought she would take.

Dean left the cup on the counter, it's contents warm against his palm but did nothing to help him. He recognized it for what it was, an excuse to get him inside, outside of his comfort zone so she could tell him what he already knew. She hated him, she blamed him for what had happened and he couldn't argue, it was his fault, he knew it, he wasn't even trying to deny it but that had never been his intentions he was just trying to keep her safe.

“I need to go.” he said, “I shouldn't have ever came here in the first place.”

She swallowed, “you're not even going to ask about Ben?”

“He's better off without me.” Dean said, “I break everything I touch.”

“He's your son,” she said, the first time that he had heard the words from her, it wasn't like he hadn't already figured it out, but hearing it like that hit him in a way the knowledge itself hadn't. “He should know you.”

“I've got no place in his life.” Dean said, “I already told you.”

“you told me, but I don't believe you. Family is too important for you. Ignore what you think you deserve, he has the right to know you Dean if that's what he wants. You owe him that much.”

Dean let the words wash over him, she was wrong. He had nothing to offer the kid and nightmares followed him wherever he went. They had already found it out the hard way more than once. He just couldn't make her see it.

He nodded, like he was considering it, “you don't know what you're asking.”

“You're right, I'm asking you to take responsibility. Not for the people out there, not for Sam, or the world or anything, I'm asking you to man up and take some responsibility for your son's best interest.”

“I am – ”

“No, you're running scared Dean, I can see it all over your face, you're so scared of what could go wrong, what could happen if you try, you've given up. You gave up a long time ago.”

It wasn't right and it wasn't fair, he felt tired, tired of defending himself and his choices, he did what he thought was best, what he knew was right, and he couldn't expect them to see it. They hadn't lived through the things he had.

He wanted to take what was offered, the chance to know the kid, but Ben was better off without him. He thought of the least promising thing he could offer, “In a few years, when he's an adult, if I'm still around, we'll talk, but right now, I can't offer him anything but nightmares. I can't be a father, I can't raise a kid, I can't do anything to help him.”

“He's 17, he doesn't need you to teach him to play baseball or take him to the park, he's pretty much been on his own for the past couple years, and that's on you. Get to know him Dean, I'm not saying you have anything to offer him, but I think he should be able to ask you if he does want something from you. You don't owe me anything, but you owe him that much.”

“Okay,” He said at last, because it was the only answer she'd take. He wrote down his number on a sticky note pad that was lying next to her phone. “If he decides to call, he can reach me.”

She took the paper and tore it off the stack moving it into an address book, “okay, just you can check in sometimes, let me know you're still alive.” She ran a hand through her hair, “look, I'm not saying I trust you, hell I'd need to have my head reexamined if I were that crazy, but I get it, you're damaged, you've seen things, and done things, and been places I can't imagine, but you have family here Dean, if you need a place to go, you have one.”

He gave her his best smile, but it wasn't like he would ever take the offer not after everything that had happened,

She held up a hand, “I'm not offering to sleep with you, I'm not offering to let you move in, or to go on dates or anything, I'm saying if you need somewhere relatively safe to run to, we're here. We'll always be here, no matter what stupid shit you pull. That's what family means.”

“I don't deserve this,” Dean said his voice coming out softer than he meant for it to.

“Without you I wouldn't have Ben. Without you, everyone would have lost everything, so yeah, you do, and not just you, Sam's welcome here to.”

He took the offer for what it was, pretty words, she said it because she felt she had to, he didn't believe it for a second though. He nodded, “I'll call.” He said.

She smiled, “I seem to remember you saying that when we first met.”

“I did call.” He reminded her, “it just took a while.”

“No, you didn't. You showed up on my doorstep. Three times, no calls.”

“Next time I'll call,” He said, already moving toward the door and the safety of the car.

Once behind the wheel with the engine purring and the vibration lulling him back to even ground he turned toward the nearest motel. He needed to find a job and fast, before he lost his damn mind waiting and did the exact worst thing he could think of. Which probably would involve killing the engine and going back in the house. Instead he gunned the engine and let the tires bark on the pavement as he left the best chance he ever had for something outside of hunting behind for what he hoped was the final good bye.

 


	46. Chapter 46

The story he found was maybe nothing, but a lot of “maybe nothings” had ended up being “definitely somethings.” It was just a church in the middle of no where with a lot of ghost stories attached to it. It was less a hunt, and more like sight seeing if he was honest, but he needed to get out and a story of teenagers getting the hell scared out of them by an invisible entity with grabby hands, seemed like both a safe, and easy distraction. Nothing he couldn't handle by himself.

It also had the benefit of being local. He wasn't willing to admit he was sticking around half hoping that Ben would call him. If Lisa gave him the number he could theoretically call at any time. Dean didn't know what he would say if the phone rang, but it gave him hope. Something to hold onto rather than think about the fact that he was the most alone he'd ever been.

The hunt was a good distraction. And he spent an afternoon chasing leads, which meant talking to a bunch of miscreant kids about what happened at the church. It turned out to pretty much be one of the more common places kids sneak off to, if they wanted to drink and be stupid without risking getting in trouble. The more he talked to the more sure he was that nothing, really was nothing.

Still he headed out to the church at sunset. Expecting nothing, but willing to be wrong.

The church was everything a run down church ever is, gray, broken windows, weird stack of pews pushed up against walls. In the sweeping movements of the flash light he could see most of the walls had been tagged with hearts and initials and names. A pile of beer cans in one corner promised that not only was the place getting a lot of visitors it was getting them pretty regularly. The place smelled like stale beer, and old dust. He broke out his own and leaned back against the wall shot gun in hand ready for whatever came at him.

It was pushing two am when he heard the sound of people moving around outside. He checked that the flashlight was working then moved toward the window they were standing next to. He waited while they pried off a latch and pulled the window open. While Dean had picked the lock on the front door it seemed like the local kids had found a different way in. As soon as the kid was through the window it banged closed behind him and Dean clicked on the flashlight at the same time he grabbed the kid by the shoulder and pushed him up against the wall, “Freeze” Dean ordered careful to hold the light in his eyes.

As soon as he got a good look at the kid he recognized him. “Damn it,” He muttered. “Ben? What the hell are you doing here? Does your mom know where you are?”

“I'm not telling you anything, who the hell are you anyways? Are you a cop?” He asked after running out of steam, blinking against the light like he was looking for a badge. 

Dean clicked it off and they were plunged back into darkness. “Come on, let's get you out of here.”

“No, you leave if you want, I'm staying.”

“Why? What could you possibly be doing here? You're not drinking are you? Getting high?” There wasn't an answer, but the offended look was at least a comfort.

“Meeting a girl.” Dean suggested at last feeling a surge of pride at the possibility.

“Yeah, your mom.” The kid muttered.

Dean smacked the back of his head, “watch your mouth.”

“What the hell?” Ben yelped and moved away from him.

“I'm going to ask one more time, what are you doing here? And if I don't like your answer, I'm going to pull out my cell phone and call your mom and you can explain to her what you're doing in an abandoned church in the middle of the night.”

“Fine,” he said, looking down at the ground, “i wanted to see if it's haunted.”

“You what!?” Dean was pretty sure he screamed it. “why the hell would you want to do that?”

“Sounded fun?” He said, “besides everyone knows it isn't, but I mean, it'd be awesome if it was you know, something different, kind of scary but in a cool way.”

“Okay, come on, let's get you home, and don't ever do anything this stupid again.”

“I'm not going anywhere with some creepy old guy hanging out in an abandoned, haunted church,” he said defiantly.

Dean was pretty sure he was about to lose his temper. In some mock piety he said, “God grant me the patience not to kick this kid's ass right now.”

As soon as the words left his mouth all hell broke loose.

 


	47. Chapter 47

The windows of the church that hadn't been already broken or boarded up shattered inward. Candles flared to life before dying down.

Dean pushed Ben behind him getting between the kid and the door. If it came down to a fight he was suddenly feeling the tire iron and lighter fluid he brought with him probably were way out classed.

It was too much to be a pissed off ghost, they tended toward more targeted specific attacks. Things like being thrown against a wall or crap like that.

The Church shuddered under the power that assaulted it. And it should have been terrifying. When the lightening sparked. Flashes landing so close outside Dean's ears were ringing he felt a spark of hopefulness, a distant memory of an old barn in the middle of no where suggested that maybe he had been wrong.

The figure that came through the door wasn't Cas though. Dean pushed Ben behind him not willing to risk the kid on a hope.

The noise and the chaos died away when the door swung inward on squealing hinges.

Dean let out a sigh of relief. Sam stood in front of him, with Micheal standing next to him.

“Fuck, Sammy, You about gave me a heart attack.”

“Dean,” Sam said his name like he was as relieved to find Dean as Dean was to see him, “I've been looking for you.”

“You didn't think to call?” Dean asked reaching in his pocket for his phone.

“Come on Sam, think about what you're giving up,” Micheal said grabbing his arm and stopping Sam from moving any closer to Dean.

“You already know my answer,” Sam said like it was an argument they'd been having for a while. Dean watched the way that Sam seemed stiffer when the Angel was focused on him, like he was holding himself up straighter.

“What's going on?” Dean asked looking at Sam for answers.

“Don't worry about it,” Micheal said glaring at Dean, “This is between me and Sam.” He turned back to Sam, the look was a demand.

Sam looked at Dean and forced a smile, “nothing, just ironing out the last details.”

There wasn't any chance of Sam explaining what he was talking about before they were joined by Gabriel.

“Oh, should have known,” He said looking at Dean, then giving a weird head tilt, “okay, crashing a family reunion, that's a little unexpected.” He turned away from Dean ignoring him the way Micheal had, “Micheal, we have to go there's a thing with a demon snake eating people in California,” there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes and the angel disappeared in a swirl of wind.

“Little tip,” Gabriel muttered looking at Sam, “if you're going to run away, don't take the prison guard with you.”

“I still don't like you,” Sam said, but offered his hand to him.

Gabriel looked at it, smiled too brightly to be real and said, “Well, that is your loss, because I am a delight to be around.” He took Sam's hand and shook it, “it was fun working with you, maybe next time we can hang out when the world's not ending, now get out the hell out of here before he figures out that was a Buffy villain.”

Dean wasn't exactly sorry to see him go either. He stood for a few heartbeats too long and waited for Sam to say something. Hell anything would have done, some explanation for the arguing, why he showed up out of no where in the middle of an apparently bust hunt, what the hell Micheal was wanting him to do. Any thing vaguely resembling an explanation would have been nice.

Sam smiled at him, a half smile like he was afraid of how Dean was going to react, “we should go.” he said but made no other movements.

Dean moved for them both throwing his arms around his brother's shoulder's and pulling him down into a hug, “i thought you were going to personally reinvent Christianity. They think you're Jesus.”

Sam laughed and dean relaxed feeling him hug back.

It was over too soon, with Sam pulling away and Dean got it, he really did but it still felt like there was more tension between them than the situation warranted. He expected Sam to come back like nothing had ever changed instead he felt like he was walking into a minefield and he had no idea what to expect. Other than a few vague news stories by a lot of questionably sane people he had no clue what Sam and the God Squad had been up to since they parted ways.

Dean was half afraid Sam was just going to disappear on him again, but he followed him to the car, Dean walked out of the church with one hand on Ben's shoulder, “Leave the ghost hunts to the experts,” he chastised, “cause you never know when something really fucking weird is going to happen.”

“Nothing would have happened if you hadn't showed up, you brought the weird with you.” Ben said, “I was just there.”

Dean figured he had a point, “that doesn't change anything, trust me, this isn't something you want any part of.”

They dropped Ben about a half a block from his mom's door and watched while he walked the distance. As soon as he slipped inside the darkened house Dean turned the car back toward the motel he was staying in. Dean went straight to the shower not giving Sam a chance to use up all the hot water. They fell into their routine and it was more comfort than Dean wanted to admit. He tried not to ignore all the things that still loomed between them. And Sam seemed content to let him ignore it.

It wasn't until he was lying in his bed half an hour later that he realized something was wrong. Dean turned the light back on. Sam looked at him confused, “what?”

“Angel's don't sleep.” Dean said, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Sam answered, “I'm okay with not doing anything.”

“So the prayers have stopped?” Dean asked, “you don't have anyone you need to go flit off and save?”

“They're still here,” Sam said quietly, “It's pretty much constant.”

“So what are you doing here.”

“You're here.” Sam said, rolling over to look up at the ceiling like he was seeing past it to the stars beyond.

“You're not human Sam, you don't need to be laying in crap hotel rooms with me, when you could be doing something more meaningful.”

Sam didn't argue with him. He sighed a sound that hitched a little too harshly for annoyance and Dean was left alone. He stared at the place his brother had been and felt the ache of loneliness building.

Dean wasn't able to get to sleep for a long time after that, it wasn't like he didn't want Sam with him, but their jobs had always been to help the people that needed helped. And he couldn't let Sam ignore that when he wasn't able to do anything.

 


	48. Chapter 48

_One thing at a time._

Dean told himself as he drove back to the bunker from the last motel room Sam had disappeared from.

He repeated it like a mantra as he found himself going crazy alone in the quiet of their borrowed home. The problem was that he had no idea what to do once he got there. It was a few days before he had to get out and just go driving.

It was the first time in his life he felt completely useless. He didn't have anything that he needed to be working on and working cases by himself seemed pointless when anything he found Sam could take care of by himself in the blink of an eye. Or he could just send one of the heavenly minions to do it for him.

Dean tried not to let that bother him. He couldn't lie, it kind of did. That he had been replaced as sam's hunting partner by a group of the same creatures that had tried to kill them a hundred times. The car was too quiet, the music was too loud, the food was too greasy without Sam to complain about the way he choose to eat it was hard for Dean to find quite the same level of joy in his lifestyle of driving too fast, eating too much crap, and sleeping with too many girls.

It was pretty much a mood killer to be on his own.

He drove slow, taking his time. It was a sure sign he'd been working too hard that the minute he had time off he felt anxious and nervous like he should be doing something. The lack of Sam made it easier for him to not think of the other things that had been lost in their fight. He still felt sometimes like there was blood staining his hands.

He tried to lose himself in hunts, tried to drink himself into oblivion, or bury himself between willing legs. It bought him a few hours but in the end he kept waking up feeling worse than when he had decide drinking would fix the problems.

It became pretty damn clear on the hunts, there just wasn't anything for him to do. And it didn't matter how many times he told himself to look harder everything he found he pretty well knew would be taken care of before he got there. It was almost like him and Sam were following the same cases on purpose.

The sixth or seventh “Jesus' sighting he heard of when showing up in town for a case, was the one where it stopped being amusing. Without Sam to pick on about it what the hell did it matter if his hair was too long. It wasn't like he was appreciating Dean's sense of humor anyways.

The black ribbon of highway spread out in front of him, going everywhere and no where at once and Dean followed it. Letting the familiarity of it distract him from how wrong everything in his life felt. There was no big event looming in their future, no monsters actively out to get them, no secrets waiting to be revealed. It was just Dean alone in the car that had always been home, a shelter for his family.

And even though he knew that Sam was okay, still out there somewhere committed to the family business, it still felt like Dean had lost him.

That was the worst part of it. He knew that if Sam wanted to come back he would have found a way to do it. Nothing ever stopped Sam when he set his mind to something.

The fact that he was still making appearances on the news was the closest thing to contact Dean had with him. Even when Sam was pissed at him he'd never managed to cut him out of his life so completely.

It was like he'd lost a part of himself. Like someone had taken his arm or something. He just didn't know how to function without Sam with him. He made it two weeks by himself before turning the car back toward Kansas.

It wasn't like he had much more of plan than he had the first days Sam was gone, but there was a pull to go home, he missed the bunker, missed the way it felt having his own space, his bed where he was the only one that slept on the sheets, where he could do whatever he wanted without worrying about who might knock on the door, where at least if he was going to feel haunted by memories of his brother they would at least be in a place his brother had actually been.

It was worse than if Sam had died. Because then it would at least make sense for him to be mourning, for him to feel like the light had been drained from his life. The world had taken on a dust hue. Dark and depressing and he wasn't sure that he'd ever feel like himself again.

Probably the worst part was he felt pretty sure it didn't matter. He was losing himself and it wasn't enough to jar him from the daze he'd fallen into.

He headed home, knowing that he was probably going to stay there indefinitely. There was nothing left in the world worth living for.

 


	49. Chapter 49

 

Dean woke up with his head throbbing. The night before was a black out haze from too much whiskey. It had been almost six months with no change. No news he had to assume meant it was all good news. The same question that gnawed at him every day greeted him when his brain finally woke up enough to realize it was day. _Where's Sam._

The same as all the days before he didn't know the answer. He checked his phone to see there were no messages. And his finger lingered over the button that would call his brother's phone. He'd called it at least 180 times. At least once a day since Sam left the motel room.

He replayed the conversation a thousand times over and he couldn't figure it out. Part of him wanted to hate his brother for leaving him, for abandoning everything they had or could have had to go be a superhero.

They weren't suppose to have that kind of power. Sam wasn't suppose to be an angel, he was suppose to be a hunter, and Dean's brother, and everything else was secondary. And it was killing him that Sam didn't need him anymore.

There was no getting over it, no moving on, nothing ahead but more of the same and it wasn't worth it Not without Sam.

Dean replayed every word every moment, heard it all over again and he had to have missed something there was a reason that his brother abandoned him, there had to have been and it was somewhere in the three minute conversation at one in the morning by the yellow light of motel lamp.

Something he'd said had driven his brother away.

It was that knowledge alone that was tearing him apart from the inside out.

By noon Dean sat at a table in the bunker. Three empty beer bottles lined up behind the laptop monitor. He wasn't quiet as drunk as he wanted to be, but he stared at the blank screen and the steadily blinking cursor.

On the table was a stack of books. He'd spent weeks reading them cover to cover. As hard as it was to get through some of them, and to relive a lot of his worst moments, he read every word. There was also a manuscript on the table, it was held together with a binder clip. It also had the distinction of being the last one he read. The book that the dick of an angel Metatron had dubbed as God's suicide note, and it was a pretty accurate description.

It was that one that had given him the idea or maybe it was the alcohol that had inspired him, he felt like Hemingway, only more sober. Or that other guy who wrote about his crappy adventures like they were something to read.

The words floated at the back of his mind, he had won. At the end of everything else he had come out alive, but what all he had lost along the way was beyond count or measure. If anyone had the right to tell his story it wasn't Chuck, it wasn't the rumors floating around in the hunting community and it definitely wasn't the place of a bunch of teenage girls no matter how devoted they turned out to be.

If anyone had the write to put his history to paper, it was him. The last man standing at the end of the world. The one that had won.

Still the cursor blinking waiting for him to find the strength to begin. He twisted the cap off another El Sol and closed his eyes. Trying to remember what it was he'd been fighting for. Trying to remember why winning was so important to him.

All he could think of though was his little brother. All he could think of was that was it really winning if it had cost him Sam? He didn't think so, but he survived so didn't that in itself mean that he won?

It didn't feel like winning.

He watched the cursor blink, watched the minutes roll past on the computer's clock, it took 3 days, 6 hours, and 17 minutes before he finally found the words to start.

* * *

 

 

Supernatural

“Alpha and Omega”

by Dean Winchester

 

 

Dedicated to Sam

_in memory of everyone we lost on the road so far._

 

 

Page 1

 

In the beginning it was just me and my brother in the back seat of the coolest car in the world. Now it's just me left to tell the story. History is written by the winner. I guess this means I won. It's a bitter victory though.

* * *

 

 

 

Dean worked on his book, losing track of how long he spent. It started as a record. Something like Johns Journal or Chuck's books. Once he got started though it was easy to pour it all out onto the page. It wasn't pretty or eloquent or well written. Or any of the things that it might have been if Sam had been the one to write it, but he was writing it for Sam. Somewhere between an apology and a love note if he was completely honest.

When it was finished it was over 600 pages, each one a reason why he needed his brother with him. There were moments when he couldn't see the screen through the tears in his eyes, and other moments that he had a little too much alcohol to even understand what it was he had written. But it all came out of him, every moment he could remember, ever fear he had, he put it all down. It was a distraction but it was also a revelation. It wasn't written for anyone else, though he had started with the vague idea that it would compliment chucks books to have how God sacrificed himself to save the universe he'd constructed from his sister, it was written for Sam. Each time he sat back down to write he was Sam he thought about, which parts he hoped would make him smile, which parts would make him made, which parts he would probably have to stop reading at, Dean put it all on the paper explaining himself the best he could.

The last page was the hardest to write. Because he didn't know how the story would end. He still felt like he was caught in the middle waiting to find out if there was still a future for him with his brother in it. He wanted to know how it really ended before he committed it to paper, but the longer he waited for Sam to come back the more sure he became that Sam wasn't coming.

It was three-forths of a bottle of jack that convinced him that there was just no ending that would be satisfying.

He sat down at the computer one last time stared at the wall of text he'd churned out over the course of months and let his hands rest over the keyboard.

 

 

* * *

 

In the end, this isn't the kind of story where we get to live happily ever after. The world keeps spinning in spite of everything that's been lost and all the things we've had to sacrifice to keep it turning. Despite everything, all the reasons why we are suppose to be able to let each other go and move on I can't do it. I never will be able to move on from this. Despite everything all I want is my brother back.

 

The End

* * *

 

Dean stared at the words, they felt too weak, felt like it wasn't enough not for what he was needing, but if he didn't get it all out in the space he had he never would be able to. He reread it a dozen times and it was probably the most terrible writing he'd ever read. But he didn't know how to make it better it was what had happened, it was every bit of truth that he knew and in the end it all boiled down to the same thing. He just needed Sam to know that he got it, that he got every stupid horrible fucked up thing was between them, that he couldn't ever make any of it okay, but that he wanted at least the chance to try.

Dean attached it to an email with two recipients. The person he wanted to read it, and the person that would make sure the rest of the world got their hands on it.

It wasn't quiet the same as going through a traditional publisher, but since chuck was technically dead he didn't think he could get permission to use his copyrighted stuff. That was probably the most fucked up part, he couldn't publish his own life story because God himself had beaten him to the punch. He lingered over the send button, debated scrapping the entire idea. It was too much like begging too much like weakness and vulnerability. He hit the button anyways. One last terrible idea, to set the record straight, and to let the world know, or at least the part that cared to know what all had been sacrificed for them. It wasn't much comfort, but at least the story would be told and he hoped the things he said would be the apology he could never voice. He knew it'd just be a matter of time before his brother got the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Endings are hard."  
> so here's the deal This is the end of this story. This is the point where you can jump off. Sam's off saving people, Dean's drinking himself into becoming the next Hemingway but less bland with a little more talent, because you know Dean is automatically good at everything he tries to do. Everyone important is dead, and Becky has the coda to chuck's masterpiece so the world will know the truth. That God sacrificed himself to save the world after being shown how it's done by Sam. and that Dean is still waiting for Sam to come back, because Sam will always come back. 
> 
> There is one more chapter, but given how little of this story has been about the ships, if you aren't here for that I get it, i understand and that's what this disclaimer is here for. Just walk away satisfied that Sam got the message, ditched the wings and came back home. A little jumpy when it comes to touch, but pretty well in control of it. Cause Sam is strong. It totally happened exactly like that.
> 
> Unless you are here for the ship, then there's just one more chapter to go.


	50. Chapter 50

Dean woke up to the smell of coffee. He was half way to the kitchen before it dawned on him that it was another day without Sam. He had finished writing the confession as he'd started thinking of his book and there hadn't been a response. Not from either of them. That was okay, he didn't exactly think that heaven had email servers.

Or it might considering how many technology driven people were supposedly there. He doubted they'd go eternity without figuring out a way to message each other.

He was still considering what a heavenly email server might be called when he saw the coffee cup on the counter, steam still rolling off the top of the cup.

He looked around the room for some sign he wasn't just losing his mind before picking up the cup. It was full and hot, and definitely fresh. He closed his eyes feeling something warm and hopeful expanding through his chest. He didn't call out, didn't ask who was there, content to just let himself believe for a minute longer just in case he was actually alone.

He slipped down the hallway toward his brother's room, scared he'd find nothing, more afraid of what he'd do if Sam was there, and without a clue what he'd do if it was someone other than his brother invading his space.

The room was empty.

Dean tried not to let it upset him, but the warmth that had been spreading burst and filled him with an almost entirely overwhelming sense of despair. When he turned around Sam was standing in the hall walking toward him with a towel around his hips and a half terrified smile.

Dean was pretty sure his jaw was hanging somewhere around his feet. Sam pushed past him into the room, “just five minutes okay?” He closed the door and Dean was left standing in the hall feeling both elated, and annoyed, and confused and like pushing the door open and demanding answers.

He gave into the urge and let himself into the room. Sam was facing the bed his back to Dean, “thirty seconds. I'm pretty sure that's your personal best.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, the words coming out harsh and rough.

Sam laughed, it was the best sound that Dean had ever heard. “Was trying to get dressed,” Sam muttered and pulled on a t-shirt. That was as far as he got before turning back to face dean. He looked afraid and it kind of broke Dean's heart. “I thought you wanted me here.” Sam said and Dean was terrified that if he didn't answer right Sam would walk out on him, that he would lose him for ever this time.

Dean threw his arms around his brother and dragged him closer, “Don't ever leave like that again,” he whispered. Sam tensed for a fraction of a second before hugging him back.

“Okay,” sam answered hugging him back.

“Hey Sam?” Dean asked against his hear, felt the wet strands of his brother's hair against his jaw.

“Yeah?”

“Is it over?”

“For now,” Sam answered and that was really the best answer he could hope for. A thought formed slowly in the back of his mind, and he didn't want to voice it too afraid of what the answer would be. But when he started to pull away sam held onto him not letting go until he was ready. They stood inches apart and Dean could feel the way Sam was waiting for him to make a move, to determine how they'd move on.

“So before,” he stopped not sure how to word it, “Sammy can I kiss you?” He asked felt like he was going to die from embarrassment instantly at having put a voice to the impulse.

“You're serious?” Sam asked going extremely still next to him.

Dean didn't know how to answer it, his eyes hit the floor. “I think I might be.” he felt heat rush through him, if all he had to offer to keep Sam with him was to cross that one major taboo line he really thought he could be okay with it. “If you are.” he clarified, “don't do it because I asked if you don't want to.”

“Thank you,” Sam whispered and Dean found himself being kissed not rough or demanding, but a gentle exploration. It wasn't the whiskey or a twisted spell or anything, it was just falling into the warm comfort of wanting to give everything in himself to Sam, for however he needed him.

“Okay,” Sam said at last pulling away like it pained him. “but I'm driving,” he said.

Dean grinned, “anything you want Sammy.”

 


End file.
